IJPBUILDERS 


i  LINCOLN    STEFFENS 


'$ 


CERF. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


CERF  LIBRARY 

PRESENTED  BY 

REBECCA  CERF  '02 

IN  THE  NAMES  OF 

CHARLOTTE  CERF  '95 

MARCEL  E.  CERF  '97 

BARRY  CERF  '02 


UPBUILDERS 


From  a  photograph  by  Lefferts  tV  Cl.,  Jersey  Lity 

MARK  M.  FAGAN 


UPBUILDERS 


By 

LINCOLN   STEFFENS 

Author   of    *'Thc    Shame  of  the  Cities"  and 
"The  Struggle  for  Self-Government'* 


Illustrated  from    Photographs 


New  York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 

MCMIX 


f 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,   INCLTHJING  THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,  IQOS,  I906,  BY  THE  S.   S.   McCLURE  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY  THE   PHILLIPS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,   1909,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE   &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHED,   SEPTEMBER,   I909 


TO   MY  FATHER 
JOSEPH     STEFFENS,    SACRAMENTO,    CALIFORNIA 


IVi567339 


FOREWORD 

Is  IT  hope  that  is  wanted  ?  Wide-eyed  opti- 
mism ?  Here  it  is,  in  this  book.  And  faith  ? 
Faith  in  democracy  ?  It  is  here.  And  a  hint 
as  to  what  one  man  can  do?  Here  it  is.  Here 
are  faith  in  the  many  men;  hope  for  all;  and, 
for  the  few  who  think  they  would  like  to  lead, 
encouragement,  the  inspiration  of  humble 
examples,  and  some  notion  of  how  to  proceed. 
This  book  contains  five  straight,  true  stories, 
each  telling  what  one  straight,  true  man  has  done 
with  democracy,  and  through  them  all  shines 
forth  at  last  one  truth  upon  which,  as  a  founda- 
tion, Man  can  build  with  and  for  Mankind: 

Wherever  the  people  have  found  a  leader  who 
was  loyal  to  them;  brave;  and  not  too  far  ahead, 
there  they  have  followed  him,  and  there  has  been 
begun  the  solution  of  our  common  problem;  the 
problem  of  the  cities,  states,  and  nations  —  the 
problem  of  civilized  living  in  human  communities. 

It  has  not  mattered  much  who  the  leader  was, 
or  what.  His  religion  has  made  no  difference, 
nor  his  social  status;  nor  his  financial  condition; 
nor  his  party.     Mark  Fagan  —  first  in  my  heart. 


viii  UPBUILDERS 

as  he  is  in  my  book  —  Mark  is  an  Irish  Catholic 
Republican  undertaker,  but  he  carried  Demo- 
cratic Jersey  City  three  times  running.  Everett 
Colby  who  turned  upside  down  Essex,  the  county 
next  to  Mayor  Pagan's  —  Senator  Colby  was  a 
Wall  Street  broker;  the  heir  of  a  rich  railroad 
builder;  a  college  graduate;  and  he  looks  his 
part.  But  to  the  voters  of  Essex  the  boy  looked 
sincere,  and  they  helped  him  to  beat  his  boss, 
and  theirs.  Ben  Lindsey  was  a  Democratic 
politician  and  a  County  Judge,  when  he  began 
to  do  justice  to  children,  and  when,  at  the  last 
Denver  election  ( 1908 ),  both  the  old  parties 
and  the  "best"  people,  both  men  and  women 
(who  vote  in  Colorado),  and  some  of  the  larg- 
est churches,  all  "went  back"  on  the  "kids' 
judge."— 

"  I  went  to  the  people,"  he  wrote  me.  "  I  went 
into  the  shops  and  the  workers  received  me 
with  open  arms.  ...  It  was  a  glorious 
victory!  .  .  .  The  Mary  Murphys  in  the 
mills,  the  men  there,  and  the  kids  in  the  street 
—  the  people  won  it." 

W.  S.  U'Ren  was  a  blacksmith  in  Colorado, 
before  he  became,  while  a  visitor  in  Oregon,  a 
lobbyist  there,  the  people's  lobbyist;  and,  as 
such,  began  to  hammer  out  legislative  tools  for 
the  use  of  democracy  everywhere.     This  strange, 


FOREWORD  IX 

great  legislator  does  not  run  for  office,  so  there 
is  no  way  of  proving  that  the  voters  of  Oregon 
appreciate  his  service,  but  they  elect  his  laws, 
and  that's  all  he  asks.  He  leads  and  the  people 
follow  his  leadership. 

But  the  most  aniazing"exaHpTe  "oTIthe  democ- 
racy of  democracy  is  the  case  of  Rudolph  Spreckels. 
A  capitalist,  the  president  of  the  First  National 
Bank  of  San  Francisco,  and  a  millionaire  in  his 
own  right,  this  young  man  is  a  member  of  the 
rich,  aggressive,  unpopular  Spreckels  family  of 
California,  and,  personally  autocratic,  unbending, 
hard,  it  did  seem  impossible  that  he  should  be 
able  to  lead  the  fight  against  the  low  vice  and  the 
high  financial  corruption  of  the  so-called  Labour 
administration  of  his  city.  And  most  of  his 
own  kind  of  people  opposed,  and  they  still  doubt 
him,  but  the  common  people,  the  rank  and  file 
of  the  uneducated,  anonymous  mob  —  they  fol- 
lowed him.  They,  too,  jeered  at  first,  and  he 
never  replied  or  explained.  Francis  J.  Heney 
did;  the  prosecutor  told  the  people  everything. 
But  Spreckels  did  his  work  in  his  private,  business- 
like, undemocratic  way;  and  the  people  watched 
him  from  afar.  And,  making  thus  at  long 
range  their  quiet  study  of  the  man,  they  were 
able  to  penetrate  class  and  party  prejudice  and 
a  cloud  of  evidence  as  thick  as  a  Pacific  fog  — 


X  UPBUILDERS 

somehow,  the  people  perceived  that  this  Spreckels 
pj^as  "all  right." 

The  people  are  pretty  wise.  They  are  ignorant, 
and  they  can  be  and  often  are,  corrupted,  but 
not  many  educated  individuals  are  as  wise  as 
the  mass  of  men  when  individuals  haven't  tam- 
pered with  them. 

"  Give  me  a  jury  of  thieves,"  said  a  well-known 
district  attorney,  "and,  if  I  can  keep  them 
apart  from  any  influence  excepting  that  of  the 
law  and  the  evidence  in  court,  they  will  convict 
a  guilty  thief  of  theft." 

The  world's  wise  doubt  the  world's  wisdom, 
and  they  have  reason  to;  they  differ  very,  very 
often;  and,  of  course,  the  wise  individual  decides, 
and  he  tells  the  mute  masses,  that  he  is  right. 
But,  Euripides  observed  long  ago  in  wise  old 
Greece,  that 

"  The  world's  wise  are  not  wise.** 

And  history  and  observation  bear  out  the 
poet  and  the  district  attorney.  Juries  are  juster 
-  than  judges;  they  feel  through  the  facts  for 
the  human  story  and  through  the  letter  of 
the  law  for  the  spirit  thereof.  The  public  is 
fairer  than  the  press;  the  readers  allow  for 
the  bias  of  the  newspaper.  An  audience  is 
more  open-minded  than  the  critics.  "Have  I 
had  a  good   time?"   the  playgoer  asks  and  the 


FOREWORD  xi 

question  is  more  fundamental  than  the  critics' 
criterion  of  art.  And  all  the  world  knows  that 
the  world  has  welcomed,  since  Euripides,  not 
only  other  artists  (Wagner,  for  example),  but 
prophets  (Jesus,  for  example),  and  scientific 
discoverers  (Darwin,  for  example),  who  were 
opposed  by  the  authorities  in  art,  church,  state, 
and  science. 

Uninformed  and  misinformed;  pauperized  or 
over-worked;  misled  or  betrayed  by  their  leaders 
—  financial,  industrial,  political  and  ecclesias- 
tical, the  people  are  suspicious,  weary,  and  very, 
very  busy,  but  they  are,  none  the  less,  the  first, 
last,  and  best  appeal  in  all  great  human  cases. 
Certainly  the  first  rule  for  the  political  reformer 
is:  Go  to  the  voters.  And  the  reason  seems  to 
be,  not  that  the  people  are  better  than  their 
betters,  but  that  they  are  more  disinterested; 
they  are  not  possessed  by  possessions;  they  have 
not  so  many  "things"  and  "friends."  They 
can  afford,  they  are  free  to  be  fair.  And,  though 
each  individual  in  the  great  crowd  lacks  some 
virtues,  they  all  together  have  what  no  individ- 
ual has,  a  combination  of  all  the  virtues. 

Mercy,  for  example,  and  forgiveness.  It's 
wonderful  how  the  people  will  pardon  error. 
Mistakes  don't  count  for  very  much  in  the 
long    run    and    the  people,  who  make  so  many 


xii  UPBUILDERS 

themselves,  they  seem  to  know  that  better  than 
the  wise  men  who  should  know  why  it  is  so. 

Everett  Colby  had  served  the  boss  of  Essex 
(and  the  bosses  of  the  boss)  faithfully,  ignorantly 
and,  therefore,  innocently,  during  three  sessions 
of  the  legislature,  till  he  saw  the  evil  thereof,  and 
appealed  to  the  people  to  beat  the  system.  He 
went,  as  Mark  Fagan  advised,  and  as  we  have 
just  seen  Judge  Lindsey  go,  to  the  shops.  The 
workers,  aware  of  his  antecedents,  heard  him 
coldly.  But  when  he  had  finished  his  first  speech 
one  of  his  audience  asked  a  question.  This 
worker  wanted  to  know  if  Mr.  Colby  "hadn't 
voted  in  the  assembly"  for  a  certain  notoriously 
bad  bill. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Colby  answered,  quick  and  straight. 
"And  not  only  for  that  bill,"  he  said.  "I  think, 
if  you  will  look  up  my  record  that  you  will  find 
me  introducing,  voting  or  speaking  for  nearly 
every  bad  measure  of  that  sort  which  came  up 
in  my  time.  But,  as  I  have  been  trying  to 
explain,  I  didn't  understand  those  things.  I've 
only  just  come  to  understand  them.  But  I  do 
think  I  understand  them  now." 

That  was  enough.  The  word  was  passed 
"down  the  line"  that  this  young  rich  fellow  was 
"on  the  level,"  and  that  was  all  the  voters  of 
Essex    wanted    to    know.     They    elected    him. 


FOREWORD  xiii 

They  forgave  his  transgressions  as  they  would 
have  theirs  forgiven  them.  They  gave  Colby 
another  chance,  just  as  they  v^ill  a  drunkard  or  a 
thief  or  a  captain  of  industry.  Indeed,  there  is 
reason  for  thinking  that  Colby  was  helped  by 
his  bad  record  of  errors.  The  people  suspect 
(and  very  wisely,  too)  all  superiority,  and  Colby's 
candid,  free  confession  of  ignorance  and  guilt, 
made  him  a  fit  representative  of  his  neighbours 
in  Essex  County,  New  Jersey,  U.  S.  A. 

Senator  Colby  has  been  retired  since;  and  Mark 
Fagan  was  beaten;  and  Lindsey  may  be,  and 
Spreckels.  "Republics  are  ungrateful,"  Mr. 
Dooley  quotes,  and  he  adds:  "That's  why  they 
are  Republics."  The  people  are  not  constant. 
And  the  forces  of  corruption  are.  In  Jersey 
the  "interests"  became  alarmed  at  the  issues 
the  Colby-Fagan  "New  Idea"  movement  was 
raising:  taxation;  representative  government;  the 
direct  election  of  the  United  States  Senators; 
home  rule;  etc.,  so  they  threw  into  the  situation 
a  "moral  issue,"  the  liquor  traffic.  This  is  an 
important  question,  but  it  is  so  important  that 
to  drop  it  into  a  reform  movement  with  other 
issues  up,  is  to  break  up  that  other  movement, 
and  —  fail  to  solve  the  liquor  question.  If  I 
were  a  political  boss,  in  danger  of  losing  my 
crown,    I    would    get   the    church    to    come    out 


XIV  UPBUILDERS 

against  the  saloon.  That  would  save  me,  and 
it  would  not  cost  the  saloons  very  much. 

The  liquor  issue  in  Jersey  checked,  but  it  did 
not  stop  reform  in  that  state.  Mr.  Colby  has 
quit,  for  awhile,  but  Mark  Pagan  and  most  of 
the  other  Jersey  leaders,  have  gone  on  fighting. 
As  I  am  writing  these  lines,  Mark  is  preparing 
to  run  again  for  Mayor  of  Jersey  City.  And  Mr. 
Heney  says  Spreckels  can't  quit;  and  I  say  Ben 
Lindsey  can't;  and  W.  S.  U'Ren — impossible! 

It's  hard  labour;  it's  the  hardest  work  in  the 
world;  and  the  least  steady,  and  the  most  never- 
ending;  but  there's  a  fascination  about  the  service 
of  the  public  which  holds  men.  It  takes  courage, 
and  self-sacrifice;  patience  and  eternal  vigilance; 
faith  and  hope  and  human  understanding;  and 
it  costs  pain  and  disappointment  and  sorrow. 
I  have  seen  strong  men  break  down  and  weep 
like  children  because,  forsooth,  I  had  said,  out  of 
kindness  and  only  half-believing  it  then,  that  some 
day,  after  they  were  dead,  men  would  acknowledge 
and,  ceasing  to  suspect  their  motives,  might 
appreciate  their  devotion  to  men.  It's  an  un- 
grateful career,  politics  is.  But  —  and  here's 
some  more  optimism  for  the  optimists  that  are 
not  mere  cheerful  idiots:  here's  a  truth  I  would 
like  to  shout  so  that  it  might  be  heard  some 
1909  years  away: 


FOREWORD  XV 

The  happiest  men  I  know  in  all  this  unhappy 
life  of  oursy  are  those  leaders  who,  brave,  loyal,  and 
sometimes  in  tears,  are  serving  their  fellow-men. 

And  who  are  their  fellow-men  that  accept  their 
service  ?  We  are,  you  and  I ;  we  are  the  people 
who  beat,  but  who  also  elect  these  leaders  of  ours. 
And  what  are  we  ?  Well,  if  I  listen  to  my  own 
thoughts,  and  my  own  conscience,  and  to  my 
own  heart,  and  yours;  and  if  you  hearken  only 
to  yours,  and  mine,  we  may  not  recognize  the  voice 
of  God.  But,  if  we  heed,  as  Mark  Fagan  must, 
and  Ben  Lindsey,  and  Rudolph  Spreckels,  the 
proud;  if  we  should  have  to  hear  and  abide  by 
the  votes  of  the  great,  mixed,  smelly  mass  of  us, 
then  we,  too,  should  both  be  and  obey  the  voice 
of  humanity.  And  that  is  divinity  enough  for 
Man,  and  for  the  little  leaders  of  men. 

Lincoln  Steffens. 

Boston,  May  is,  IQOQ, 


V 


CONTENTS 


I.     Mark  Fagan,  Mayor    ....  3 

II.     Everett  Colby,  "  The  Gentleman  from 

Essex" 47 

III.  Ben  Lindsey,  the  Just  Judge      .       .         94 

(1)  "  The  Kids'  Court  " 

(2)  What  Makes  "Bad"  Children  Bad 

(3)  Battles  with  "Bad"  Men 

IV.  Rudolph   Spreckels,  a   Business   Re- 

former   244 

V.     W.  S.  U'Ren,  the  Law-giver      .       .       285 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Mark  M.  Fagan        .         .         .  Frontispiece 

FACING  FACE 

Everett  Colby  .....  48 

Ben  B.  Lmdsey  .....  96 

Rudolph  Spreckels  .....  246 

William  S.  U'Ren 286 


UPBUILDERS 


UPBUILDERS 

MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  -0«-a  ^>"\ 

**You  saw  go  up  and  down  Valladolid,  \ 

A  man  of  mark,  to  know  next  time  you  saw." 

Robert  Browning. 

THAT  Jersey  City  should  have  produced  Mark 
Fagan  is  strange  enough.  But  that  Mark 
Fagan,  grave,  kind,  and  very  brave,  should  have 
been  able,  as  Mayor,  to  make  Jersey  City  what  it 
IS :  a  beginning  of  better  things  all  over  this  land , 
of  ours,  that  is  stranger  still.  And  no  man  there 
pretends  to  understand  it.  Yet  it  is  a  simple 
story. 

Mark  —  as  they  call  him  —  the  men,  the  ^^o^ 
women,  and  the  children  —  was  born  September 
29,  1869,  in  the  fifth  ward  where  he  lives  now. 
His  parents  were  poor  Irish,  very  poor.  They 
moved  over  to  New  York  when  Mark  was  a  child, 
and  the  father  died.  Mark  sold  newspapers. 
The  newsboy  dreamed  dreams  and  fought  fights. 
He  claimed  a  corner.  Twelfth  Street  and  Avenue 
A,  developed  a  good  trade,  and  when  competition 
came,  appealed  to  the  man  in  the  store  to  say 

3 


4  UPBUILDERS 

if  he  was  n't  there  first.  The  man  in  the  store 
wouldn't  decide;  he  told  the  boys  they  must 
fight  it  out  among  themselves,  so  they  laid  down 
their  papers  and  they  fought  it  out.  Mark  held 
his  corner.  "Life  is  one  long  fight  for  right," 
he  says  now,  this  very  gentle  man,  who  fights  and 
— ^  holds  his  corner. 

The  newsboy's  dreams,  like  his  fights,  were 
very  simple  affairs.  When  I  pried  into  them, 
I  expected  to  hear  of  driving  a  locomotive  or  the 
Presidency,  at  least.  But  no,  it  seems  that  some 
men  said  roughly  that  they  didn't  want  to  buy 
a  paper,  others  said  it  kindly.  Mark  made  up 
his  mind  that  when  he  became  a  man  he  would 
be  like  the  kind  men.  Sometimes  the  nights 
were  cold  and  the  newsboy  felt  hungry  and  lonely; 
passing  houses  where  the  family  sat  in  the  base- 
ment room,  all  lighted  up  and  warm,  with  plenty 
of  smoking  hot  food  before  them,  Mark  stopped 
to  look  in  and  he  dreamed  that  when  he  grew  up, 
he  also  would  have  a  home.  He  couldn't  go  to 
school;  he  had  only  six  months  of  it  all  told. 
But  he  didn't  like  school;  it  was  indoors,  and 
he  has  dreamed  that  he  would  like  to  have,  in 
Jersey  City,  schools  on  large  plots  of  ground,  so 
that  part  of  the  teaching  might  be  done  in  the 
open.     But  this  dream  came  later. 

When  he  was  twelve  or  fourteen  Mark  became 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  5 

a  helper  on  a  wagon.  Then  he  learned  the  trade 
of  a  frame-gilder  with  William  B.  Short,  a  Scotch- 
man who  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  boy. 
Short  was  a  "genuine  man."  He  was  a  Repub- 
lican in  politics.  The  boy  was  a  Democrat 
by  birth,  breeding,  and  environment.  But  the 
man  pointed  out  to  the  little  Tammany  Demo- 
crat on  election  days  the  Tammany  line-up 
of  men  from  the  street  into  the  saloon  and  out 
again,  with  foam  on  their  lips  and  something  in 
their  hands,  to  the  ballot-box.  Mark  had  a  pain- 
ful time,  talking  to  people  on  both  sides,  but 
what  he  saw  with  his  own  staring  eyes,  with  the 
honest  gilder  pointing  at  the  living  facts,  made 
the  Democrat  a  Republican. 

The  next  period  made  the  boy  a  man.  His 
uncle,  an  undertaker  in  Jersey  City,  offered 
Mark  a  job,  and  he  moved  with  his  mother  and 
sister  back  there  to  take  it.  Now  this  business 
often  has  a  demoralizing  effect  upon  men.  They 
see  dreadful  sights,  and  they  harden  or  take  to 
drink.  Mark  saw  dreadful  sights;  you  can  see 
that  he  sees  them  now  when  he  recalls  those  days, 
but  they  softened,  they  sweetened  Mark  Fagan. 
He  saw  homes  where  the  dead  mother  left  noth- 
ing but  a  helpless  child  -  -  nothing,  you  under- 
stand, but  the  child.  He  saw  that  the  poor 
suffered  greatly  from  the  wrongs  of  others,  not 


6  UPBUILDERS 

alone  of  those  above,  but  of  those  also  that  were 
about  them,  and  yet,  the  poor  were  great  in 
charity  for  the  poor. 

"I  came,"  he  says,  in  his  quiet,  level  tone,  "I 
came  to  have  pity  for  the  poor  and  —  admiration." 

You  hear  that  Mark,  the  undertaker,  cared 
for  the  living  child  as  well  as  the  dead  mother; 
he  stayed  with  his  job  after  the  funeral,  and  by 
and  by  people  came  to  the  undertaker  with  the 
business  of  life.  His  explanation  is  that  he 
"could  write  and  fix  up  insurance  and  things 
like  that."  Others  could  write  and  fix  up  insur- 
ance; the  point  was  that  they  trusted  Mark  to  do 
it,  all  his  neighbors,  all  nationalities,  all  ages; 
and  he  did  it.  One  of  the  odd  branches  of  this 
odd  undertaking  business  was  to  fix  up  mar- 
riages. It  seems  that,  among  the  poor  also, 
there  comes  a  time  soon  after  the  wedding  when 
husband  and  wife  fall  out;  love  turns  to  what 
looks  like  hate,  and  sometimes  becomes  hate. 
In  Jersey  City,  young  married  people  used, 
when  the  crisis  arrived,  to  go  to  Mark;  they'd  "tell 
him  on  each  other";  and  he  would  listen  and 
seem  to  judge.  But  what  he  really  did  was  to 
get  everything  said  and  done  with,  and  then 
when  they  were  tired  and  satisfied,  and  sorry, 
he  "fixed  'em  up." 

So  far  there  is  nothing  so  very  extraordinary 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  7 

about  Mark  Fagan.  He~4s  a  type  of  the  men 
who,  winning  the  faith  and  affection  of  their 
neighbours,  become  political  leaders.  "Popu- 
larity" makes  them  "available"  as  candidates 
or  "ward  bosses."  Nothing  was  further  from 
Mark's  mind,  but  it  was  inevitable  that  he  should 
go  into  politics,  and  the  way  he  went  in  was 
natural  and  commonplace.  One  Sunday  morn- 
ing as  he  was  leaving  church  several  young 
fellows  stopped  him  to  propose  that  he  run  for 
the  board  of  freeholders.  He  was  "not  adapted," 
he  said;  why  didn't  one  of  them  run?  They 
explained  that  "Bob"  Davis,  the  Democratic 
boss,  wouldn't  let  them  run;  wouldn't  let  any- 
body run  in  their  party  who  wouldn't  knuckle 
under  to  him.  But  Mark  was  a  Republican. 
The  ward,  like  the  city  and  county,  was  heavily 
Democratic,  and  since  there  was  so  little  chance 
of  winning,  the  Republican  ring  would  let  any- 
body have  the  nomination.  If  Mark  would  let 
them,  they  would  arrange  it,  fight  with  him,  and 
he  might  be  elected.  They  couldn't  persuade 
Mark  himself,  but  they  knew  how  to  get  him. 
They  went  to  his  mother.  They  explained  it  to 
her,  and  she  bade  Mark  run.  He  asked  her 
if  she  understood  it  all,  and  she  said  she  didn't, 
except  that  it  seemed  to  be  a  chance  to  do  some 
good  in  the  ward. 


8  UPBUILDERS 

Thus  Mark  Fagan  was  started  In  politics.  When 
he  took  the  Republican  nomination  and  his  popu- 
larity showed,  the  fellows  that  got  him  into  the 
fight  got  out.  They  had  to;  they  were  called  off 
by  the  bosses  who  ran  the  two  parties  as  one. 
That  made  Mark  fight  the  harder.  Left  high 
and  dry  by  "the  organization,"  he  went  to  the 
people  of  his  district. 

"  I  was  bound  to  win,"  he  says,  "  and  I  felt  that 
if  I  was  beaten  it  would  be  because  I  wasn't 
known  to  enough  of  the  voters.  And,  any- 
how, I  wanted  to  know  my  people  in  my  ward." 

So  he  started  at  5.45  one  morning  at  one  cor- 
ner of  his  ward,  and  he  went  systematically 
through  it,  knocking  at  every  door,  seeing  every 
man,  woman,  and  child;  he  climbed  3,700  flights 
of  stairs  in  seventeen  nights;  and  he  promised  to 
"serve  the  people  of  his  ward  faithfully  and 
honestly."  Mark  was  elected,  and  dirty  Jersey 
Gity  was  amazed. 

Now  comes  the  first  remarkable  thing  about 
this  remarkable  man.  The  corruption,  political 
and  financial,  of  the  United  States  is  built  up  on 
the  betrayal  of  the  people  by  the  leaders,  big  and 
little,  whom  they  trust,  and  the  treason  begins  in 
the  ward.  The  ward  leader,  having  the  full,  fine, 
personal  faith  of  his  neighbours,  takes  their  con- 
fidence  and   their  votes,   and   he   delivers  these 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR    ,  ..^.9 

things  and  his  own  soul  to  the  party  bosses  who 
sell  out  the  interests  of  the  city,  state,  and  nation 
to  the  business  leaders,  who  —  as  we  know  now  — 
use  the  money  we  entrust  to  them  to  rob  us  and 
corrupt  our  political,  commercial  and  our  higher 
life.  When  Mark  Fagan  had  taken  his  oath, 
the  other,  older  freeholders  came  to  him,  and 
they  invited  him  into  "the  combine."  There 
was  no  mystery  about  it.  There  was  a  com- 
bine and  there  was  graft;  of  course  a  man  wants 
his  share  of  the  graft,  and  though  Fagan  was  a 
Republican,  party  made  no  difference;  both  par- 
ties were  in  on  it,  and  Fagan  had  a  right  to  what 
was  coming  to  him.  Something  —  the  man 
doesn't  know  exactly  what  it  was  —  something 
which  he  thinks  is  religious,  made  him  decline 
to  go  in.  He  is  a  quiet  man,  and  he  made  no 
outcry.  He  didn't  perfectly  understand  any- 
how, then,  just  what  it  all  meant.  It  simply 
"didn't  look  right"  to  Mark,  so  he  did  not  sell 
out  the  people  of  his  ward  who  trusted  him  to 
serve  them.  And  the  worst  of  it  was,  he  couldn't 
serve  them.  If  he  wouldn't  "stand  in,"  the  com- 
bine wouldn't  let  him  have  anything  for  his 
ward,  not  even  the  needed,  rightful  improve- 
ments. All  he  got  were  three  political  jobs, 
and  they  were  a  gift  to  him.  The  combine 
having  distributed  all  the  offices,  had  three  left 


lo  UPBUILDERS 

over.  Since  these  were  not  enough  to  go  around 
again,  they  wrangled  till  somebody,  to  save  the 
combine,  suggested  giving  them  all  to  Mark. 
They  "  kind  o'  liked  "  Mark,  so  this  bit  of  patron- 
age went  to  him  with  a  whoop. 

Mark  was  not  reelected  freeholder.  He  says 
that  his  inability  to  do  things  for  the  ward  did 
not  hurt  him  with  his  people;  more  of  them 
voted  for  him  than  ever  before.  But  the  state 
and  city  rings  had  had  a  gerrymander  about  that 
time,  and  they  so  arranged  the  lines  of  Mark's 
ward  that  he  was  beaten.  He  served  his  neigh- 
bours privately  till  the  next  year  the  Republicans 
nominated  him  for  the  state  senate.  Hopeless, 
anyway,  the  candidacy  fell  upon  a  presidential 
year,  Bryan's  first,  and  the  Democratic  County 
of  Hudson  was  wild  with  party  enthusiasm. 
But  the  moment  Mark  was  nominated  he  left 
the  convention  and,  fifty  feet  from  the  door, 
began  his  campaign;  he  met  two  men;  he  told  them 
he  had  just  been  nominated,  that  if  he  was  elected 
he  would  serve  them  "honestly  and  faithfully," 
and  they  promised  to  vote  for  him.  In  this 
fashion,  man  to  man,  he  canvassed  his  county  and, 
though  it  went  against  him,  he  ran  way  ahead 
of  his  ticket.     And  he  carried  the  city. 

A  Republican  who  can  carry  a  Democratic 
city  is  the   "logical"  candidate  of  his  party  for 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  ii 

Mayor,  and,  in  1901,  Mark  Fagan  was  nominated. 
Some  of  the  little  bosses  warned  the  big  bosses 
that  they  couldn't  handle  him,  but  the  big 
bosses  pooh-poohed  the  fears  of  the  little  bosses. 
In  the  first  place  he  wouldn't  be  elected.  The 
railroads,  the  public  service  companies,  and 
some  of  the  greatest  corporations  in  the  world 
have  offices  and  properties  in  Jersey  City,  and 
their  agents  there  had  used  money  so  exten- 
sively that  they  ruled  absolutely  a  people  supposed 
to  be  utterly  corrupted.  Bribery  at  the  polls, 
election  frauds,  ballot-box  stuffing  —  all  sorts 
of  gross  political  crimes  had  made  this  home  of 
"common  people"  and  corporations  notorious. 
"Bob"  Davis  was  the  Democratic  boss,  politi- 
cally speaking;  but  Mr.  E.  F.  C.  Young,  banker, 
leading  citizen,  public  utility  magnate,  was  the 
business  boss  who,  backing  Davis,  was  the  real 
power.  Colonel  Sam  Dickinson,  the  Republican 
boss,  was  a  corporation  man,  and  one  might 
expect  that  his  party,  which  was  in  power  in  the 
state,  would  help  him.  But  no.  General  Sewell, 
U.  S.  Senator,  Pennsylvania  railroad  official, 
and  Republican  state  boss,  dispensed  Republican 
patronage  in  Hudson  County,  through  the  Demo- 
cratic boss,  Mr.  E.  F.  C.  Young.  Sewell  was 
dead  now,  but  the  custom  survived  him,  and  in 
1 90 1   the   Democrats  nominated   against  Fagan, 


12  UPBUILDERS 

George  T.  Smith,  Young's  son-in-law,  an  employee 
of  the  Pennsylvania.  So  Fagan  had  against  him 
the  money,  the  "best  citizens,"  the  "solid,  con- 
servative business  interests"  of  the  state  and 
city,  and  —  both  rings.  Hence,  the  certainty  that 
Fagan  would  be  defeated.  But  even  if  he  should 
win  the  big  bosses  believed  they  could  "handle 
him."  They  had  sized  up  the  man.  And  if 
you  could  size  up  Mark  Fagan  —  feel  his  humil- 
ity and  see  the  pleading,  almost  dependent  look 
of  his  honest,  trustful  eyes  —  you  would  under- 
stand how  ridiculous  to  the  big  bosses  the  worry 
of  the  little  bosses  must  have  seemed. 

An  astonished  city  elected  Mark.  His  quiet 
campaign  from  house  to  house,  his  earnest,  sim- 
ple promise  to  "serve  you  honestly  and  faith- 
fully," had  beaten  bribery.  His  kind  of  people 
believed  Mark  Fagan,  and  so,  though  the  Repub- 
lican ticket  as  a  whole  was  beaten,  Mark  was 
Mayor.  Being  Mayor,  Mark  assumed  that  he 
was  the  head  of  the  city  government.  He  didn't 
understand  that  his  election  meant  simply  that 
his  boss  had  come  into  his  own.  He  saw  Gov- 
ernor Murphy  appoint  Colonel  Dickinson  secre- 
tary of  state,  and  he  heard  that  the  Colonel  was 
to  have  some  of  the  local  patronage  of  the  Repub- 
lican state  government.  Mark  might  have 
assumed  that  he  had  "made"  Dickinson.     But 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  13 

he  was  told  that  it  was  the  other  way  around. 
They  walked  in  upon  Mark  —  the  Colonel  who 
"  made  "  him;  the  editor  of  the  paper  that "  elected  " 
him;  and  General  Wanser  who  was  ready  to 
help  "unmake"  him, —  these  and  the  other  big 
Republican  bosses  who  expected,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  to  give  Jersey  City  a  "good  business 
government,"  called  on  the  Mayor-elect.  Mark, 
who  has  no  humour,  tried  to  tell  me  how  he  felt 
when  they  came  and  took  charge  of  him  and 
his  office.  Putting  one  fist  to  his  forehead,  and 
pressing  the  other  hand  on  the  back  of  his  head 
(a  characteristic  gesture),  he  said  that  he  looked 
up  to  those  men;  he  felt  his  own  deficiencies  of 
education  and  experience;  he  had  a  heavy  sense 
of  his  tremendous  responsibility;  and  he  wanted 
help  and  advice,  for  he  wished  to  do  right.  But, 
you  see,  he  was  Mayor.  The  people  looked 
to  him.  He  might  make  mistakes;  but  since  he 
must  answer  for  them  to  those  people,  man  to 
man,  you  understand,  and  man  by  man,  when 
he  knocked  again  at  their  doors,  why,  Mark 
Fagan  thought  he  ought  to  listen  to  "  his  party," 
yes,  and  be  "true  to  it,"  yes;  but  after  all,  the 
whole  people  would  expect  him  to  decide  all 
questions  —  all. 

Mayor    Fagan    didn't    realize,    at    that    time, 
that  our  constitutional  governments  were  changed. 


14  UPBUILDERS 

that  this  was  a  business  nation  and  that  the  gov- 
ernment represented  not  the  people,  but  business; 
not  men,  but  business  men.  So  he  sat  silent, 
apart,  and  perplexed  —  not  indignant,  mind  you, 
not  quarreling  and  arguing;  no,  the  others  did  that; 
the  Mayor  only  listened  perplexed  while  Colonel 
Dickinson  and  General  Wanser  and  the  rest  dis- 
cussed "his"  policy  and  "his"  appointments; 
discussed  them  and  disagreed,  quarreled,  all 
among  themselves,  but  finally  agreed  among 
themselves.  And  then,  when  they  had  settled 
it  all  and  turned  to  him,  a  party  in  harmony,  he 
"got  oflF  something  about  being  Mayor  and 
reserving  the  right  to  change  some  items  of  the 
slate  and  policy."  It  was  their  turn  to  be  per- 
plexed. Perplexed  ?  They  left  him  in  a  rage 
to  "go  to  the  devil." 

The  Mayor,  abandoned,  proceeded  with  a 
quiet  study  he  was  making  all  by  himself  of  the 
city.  He  went  about,  visiting  the  departments, 
meeting  officials,  and  asking  questions.  People 
wrote  complaints  to  him,  and  some  of  them  were 
as  perplexed  as  the  bosses  when  Mayor  Fagan 
answered  their  letters  in  person,  looked  into  their 
troubles,  and  went  off  to  "fix  'em  up."  There 
were  lots  of  things  for  a  Mayor  to  do:  Parents 
couldn't  get  their  children  into  school;  no  room. 
Families   couldn't   get   water    above   the    second 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  15 

floor;  no  force.  Cellars  were  flooded;  pipes 
leaked.  Jersey  City,  corrupt,  neglected,  robbed, 
needed  everything.  And  Mayor  Fagan  took  its 
needs  seriously.  He  must  have  more  schools, 
more  and  better  sewers,  more  water;  and  he  did 
want  to  add  a  public  bath  and  parks  and  music 
in  the  parks.  "I  wanted,"  he  says,  "to  make 
Jersey  City  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in;  Fd  like  to 
make  it  pretty."  Jersey  City  pretty!  Were 
you  ever  in  Jersey  City  ?  I  suppose  when  your 
train  was  coming  through  Jersey  City  you  were 
gathering  up  your  things  and  being  brushed 
by  the  porter;  you  probably  never  looked  out 
of  the  window.  Well,  look  next  time  and  you 
will  see  that  what  the  railroad  attorneys  say 
is  true: 

"It's  nothing  but  a  railroad  terminal.  They 
talk  about  the  railroads  owning  it;  the  railroads 
ought  to  own  it.  It's  the  terminal  of  the  traffic 
of  a  continent." 

Nevertheless,  Mark  Fagan,  who  lived  there  and 
who  knew  personally  so  many  families  that  lived 
and  must  always  live  there,  he,  their  Mayor, 
dreamed  of  making  it  a  pleasant  city  to  live  in. 
How?  Money,  lots  of  money,  was  needed,  and 
how  was  money  to  be  raised  for  such  a  purpose  .^ 
When  he  had  broached  his  idea  to  the  bosses  it 
seemed  to  fill  them  with  disgust,  and  now  that 


i6  UPBUILDERS 

they  were  gone,  he  didn't  know  what  to  do.     He 
needed  help,  and  help  came. 

Among  the  appointments  recommended  to 
him  by  Colonel  Dickinson  was  that  of  George 
L.  Record,  to  be  corporation  counsel.  Record, 
an  able  lawyer,  had  been  the  principal  orator  in 
the  campaign,  and  the  Mayor  "took  to  him." 
But  it  was  whispered  that  Record  was  interested 
in  a  contracting  company  which  was  building 
waterworks  for  the  city,  and  the  Mayor,  suspicious 
by  this  time  of  everybody,  hesitated.  Record  was 
resentful,  but  he  had  had  dreams  of  his  own 
once.  He  had  read  Henry  George  and  his 
dreams  were  of  economic  reforms  —  taxation. 
But  he  had  fought  the  bosses  in  vain,  and  was 
about  ready  to  give  up  when,  reflecting  upon 
the  rock  they  all  had  struck  at  the  bottom  of 
this  mild  Mayor's  character,  he  saw  that  "by 
Jove,  here  was  an  honest  man  who  could 
make  people  believe  in  his  honesty."  He  went 
to  see  him.  The  water  business  was  explained; 
Record  had  been  engaged  only  as  a  broker,  and 
he  was  out  of  it.  He  was  free  to  take  Mark's 
pledge  to  be  "loyal  to  the  Mayor  and  the 
people  of  Jersey  City."  They  had  a  long, 
warm  talk.  The  Mayor's  mind  ran  to  the 
betterment  of  the  physical  conditions  of  life; 
Record's  to  more  fundamental  reforms,  but  tax- 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  17 

ation  was  the  way  to  raise  money  to  make  the 
city  pleasant. 

They  outlined  a  policy.  They  took  in  others 
to  form  a  cabinet:  Edgar  B.  Bacon,  Frank  J. 
Higgins,  Edward  Fry,  and  Robert  Carey  — 
all  these,  and  Record  and  Fagan,  are  Mark  Fagan. 
They  discuss  questions  as  they  arise,  and  the 
Mayor  decides;  they  agree,  but  Mark  is  the 
Mayor.  Some  people  say  Record  is  the  boss, 
but  he  laughs. 

"The  big  grafters  know  better,"  he  says. 
"They  failed  to  handle  Mark,  and  when  they 
found  that  I  was  'next'  they  asked  me  to  sell 
him  out.  I  didn't  tell  them  that  I  wouldn't;  I 
told  them  I  couldn't.  And  I  can't,  and  they 
know  I  can't.  I  can  advise,  I  can  instruct,  and 
the  man  will  try,  actually  try  hard  to  see  things 
as  I  do.  For  he  trusts  me,  and  he  wants  to  be 
shown.  He  wants  to  know.  But  he  decides; 
and  there's  something  in  him  —  I  don't  know 
what  it  is  —  something  that  tells  him  what  is 
right.  No.  I've  been  a  help,  a  great  help,  to 
him,  but  so  have  the  others  of  us,  and  we  have 
helped  him  to  decide  to  do  things  no  one  of  us 
alone  would  have  had  the  nerve  to  do.  And 
there's  where  he  is  great.  It  all  comes  down  to 
this:  We  all  agree  on  the  right  thing  to  do,  and 
we  do  it;  but  when  the  howl  goes  up  and  the 


i8  UPBUILDERS 

pull  begins  to  draw,  we  put  it  all  up  to  Mark. 
'Blame  him,'  we  say;  *we  can't  help  it,'  and  they 
blame  him.  But  that  eases  us,  and,  you  see, 
Mark  prefers  it  that  way.  He  wants  to  stand 
for  everything;  everything.  Oh,  he  should,  yes, 
but  you  see,  he  wants  to." 

The  policy  the  Mayor  and  his  corporation 
counsel  outlined  was  to  equalize  taxation.  They 
couldn't  raise  the  rates;  the  city  was  overburdened 
with  taxes  already,  but  the  corporations  probably 
dodged  their  share.  Record  didn't  know  that 
they  did;  the  Mayor  was  to  see,  and  while  he  went 
about  with  the  tax  lists  and  an  expert.  Record  had 
a  talk  with  the  boss,  Dickinson.  The  Mayor  had 
consented  to  let  the  Colonel  have  most  of  the 
patronage  if  "the  party"  would  let  him  carry  out 
his  policy,  and  Record  argued  with  Dickinson, 
that  having  made  all  the  money  he  needed,  it 
was  time  for  him  to  play  the  big  game  of  straight 
politics,  take  his  ease  and  the  credit  of  a  good 
administration.     Dickinson  liked  the  idea. 

The  Mayor  and  his  expert  reported  that  the 
poor  paid  taxes  on  about  70  per  cent,  of  the 
value  of  their  property;  privileged  persons  on 
about  50  per  cent.;  the  corporations  on  all  the 
way  from  30  per  cent,  to  nothing.  Mark 
Fagan  had  a  new  purpose  in  life.  The  others 
laughed  at  the  old,  old  story;  it  was  new  to  Mark, 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  19 

and  he  raised  rates  on  the  tax  dodgers.  There 
was  an  awful  clamour,  of  course,  and  there  were 
pulls,  but  all  complaints  were  referred  to  the  little 
Mayor,  who,  seeing  complex  business  problems 
in  a  simple  way,  was  a  rock. 

Then  there  were  the  trolleys.  These  were 
valuable  privileges.  Why  shouldn't  they  pay  a  fair 
tax  ?  There  was  a  reason  why  they  shouldn't : 
Republican,  as  well  as  Democratic,  bosses  were 
in  on  them.  This  didn't  deter  the  Mayor,  and 
when  Record  sounded  Colonel  Dickinson,  the 
Republican  boss  winked  the  other  eye.  He 
wasn't  in  trolleys,  and  he  had  had  a  bit  of  a  row 
with  E.  F.  C.  Young,  the  Democratic  boss  who 
was.  As  for  the  other  Republican  bosses  who 
were  in  with  Young,  they  might  "  see  the  Mayor " 
for  themselves.  They  did.  When  it  was  noised 
about  that  the  sacred  private  property  of  the  street 
car  company  in  the  middle  of  the  public  streets 
was  to  be  assessed  somewhat  as  ordinary  property, 
General  Wanser,  for  instance,  called  on  the  Mayor. 

"  What's  this  I  hear  you  are  going  to  do  with  the 
trolleys,  Mark?"  he  asked. 

"Whatever  is  right,"  said  Mark.  "I  under- 
stand they  are  undervalued;  if  they  are,  we  will 
raise  them." 

"  Well,  now,  I'm  a  good  friend  of  yours,  Mark, 
and  I  don't  want  you  to  do  anything  of  that  sort." 


5l 


20  UPBUILDERS 


"If  you  are  a  good  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mark, 
"you  shouldn't  ask  me  to  do  anything  wrong." 

"Don't  you  know,"  said  Wanser,  "that  every 
dollar  I  have  in  the  world  is  in  this  thing  ?" 

Mark  Fagan  couldn't  see  the  relevancy  of  this; 
he  talked  about  other  people  having  every  dollar 
that  they  had  in  houses  and  lots,  and  yet  pay- 
ing taxes.  As  General  Wanser  remarked  when  he 
left  in  high  dudgeon,  Mark  Fagan  had  "damn 
7^       queer  ideas  about  things." 

y^^     He  had,  and  he  has.     One  of  his  queer  ideas  is 

/     what  may  be  called  a  sense  of  public  property. 

All  men  know  that  private  property  is  sacred; 

for  centuries  that  sense  has  been  borne  in  upon  us 

rtill  even  thieves  know  it  is  wrong  to  steal  private 
property.  But  highly  civilized  men  lack  all  sense  of 
the  sacredness  of  public  property;  from  timber 
\  lands  to  city  streets  that  is  a  private  graft.  And 
"when  one  day  the  Mayor  received  an  anonymous 
note  advising  him  to  have  the  underlying  fran- 
chise of  the  trolley  company  looked  up,  he  was 
interested.  He  had  the  note  copied  in  type- 
writing, then  he  scrupulously  destroyed  the  orig- 
inal. The  copy  he  gave  to  Corporation  Counsel 
Record.  Mr.  Record  discovered  to  his  amazement 
that  the  franchise  had  expired.  We  need  not  go 
into  details.  The  Mayor  and  his  cabinet  decided 
to  take  the  matter  into  the  courts;  if  the  court 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  ^t 

decided  that  the  franchise  belonged  to  the  city,  the 
Mayor  meant  to  take  it.  To  some  of  the  Mayor's 
advisers  this  looked  like  a  dreadful  step  to  take; 
they  thought  of  the  "widows  and  orphans"  and 
other  innocent  holders  of  the  stock.  It  didn't 
look  so  bad  to  Colonel  Dickinson;  he  thought 
only  of  his  rival  boss,  E.  F.  C.  Young,  whom  he 
had  seen  grabbing  up  the  street  railways  under 
his  nose.  And  it  didn't  look  bad  to  Mayor  Fagan; 
he  thought  of  the  "widows  and  orphans"  who 
held  no  stock  except  in  Jersey  City,  which  — 
so  it  seemed  to  Mark  —  had  as  much  right  as  an 
individual  or  a  private  corporation  to  whatever 
belonged  to  it. 

Unbeknown  to  the  cabinet,  however,  while  they 
were  deliberating  on  their  discovery,  the  great  Pub- 
lic Service  Corporation  was  being  formed.  The 
big  men  in  the  Prudential  Life  and  its  Fidelity 
Trust  Company  had  gone  in  with  the  U.  G.  I. 
(United  Gas  Improvement  Co.)  of  Philadelphia 
and  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  crowd  to  buy  up 
practically  all  the  trolleys,  electric  light,  and 
other  available  public  utility  companies  of  New 
Jersey.  Among  these  purchases  were  the  Jersey 
City  lines  and,  also,  an  electric  light  company 
in  which  Colonel  Dickinson  was  an  employee. 
This  was  embarrassing  to  Dickinson;  E.  F.  C. 
Young  was  out  and  Dickinson  and  his  friends  were 


22  UPBUILDERS 

in.  Record  told  Fagan  all  about  it,  but,  as  he 
says,  **Mark  didn't  care;  he  wasn't  even  inter- 
ested." He  made  public  his  plan  to  test  the 
franchise,  the  stock  fell  and  there  was  a  great 
ado.  The  Public  Service  Corporation  had  walked 
straight  into  politics.  Tom  McCarter,  the 
Attorney-general,  was  made  president  of  the  com- 
pany and  his  brother,  Robert,  was  made  Attorney- 
general  of  the  state.  As  we  all  know,  the  new  crowed 
acquired  such  a  heritage  of  corrupt  power  that  they 
were  able  to  send  the  president  of  the  Prudential, 
John  F.  Dryden,  to  the  United  States  Senate. 
This  power,  and  the  power  of  the  U.  G.  I.  (the  same 
that  drove  Philadelphia  to  revolt)  came  down  upon 
Dickinson  and  Record.  The  grafters  didn't  want 
to  see  the  Mayor,  but  Dickinson  and  Record  told 
them  they  must,  so  Dryden  gave  a  yachting  party 
up  the  Hudson.  Dryden,  Randall  Morgan,  and 
Tom  McCarter  went  and  Dickinson,  Record,  and 
the  Mayor's  cabinet  —  all  but  the  Mayor.  The 
party  was  fog-bound  off  Hoboken,  so  they  had 
no  sail,  and,  though  they  talked,  they  did  no 
business.     They  had  to  see  Fagan. 

They  saw  Fagan.  The  U.  G.  I.  has  rooms  at 
Sherry's  for  such  business,  and  there  one  afternoon 
was  held  a  conference  which  has  passed  into  the 
traditions  of  New  Jersey.  The  more  impor- 
tant persons  present  were  Mayor  Fagan,  Record, 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  23 

Bacon,  Carey,  and  Dickinson  representing  Jersey 
City;  Tom  McCarter,  of  the  Public  Service 
Corporation;  and  Randall  Morgan  of  the  U.  G.  I. 
The  rooms  were  luxurious,  the  entertainment 
was  good,  and  the  conversation  friendly  and 
pleasant.  When  they  got  down  to  business,  every- 
body felt  as  if  they  ought  to  be  able  to  agree  — 
everybody  but  Mark  Fagan.  He  sat  apart,  cold 
and  still.  He  says  now  that  he  felt  at  the  time 
that  he  shouldn't  have  gone  there  at  all,  but  that 
all  the  way  over  on  the  boat  and  during  the  con- 
versation he  was  conning  over  just  what  he  would 
say;  that  it  was  "not  his  business,  but  the  city's, 
and  that  the  case  must  go  to  the  courts  to  decide." 
Tom  McCarter  spoke  for  the  trolley,  Carey  for  the 
city,  and  they  got  nowhere.  Randall  Morgan  was 
talking  tactfully  to  the  Mayor  in  a  corner,  when 
suddenly  McCarter  turned  upon  Mark  and  said: 
"Well,  Mr.  Mayor,  what  is  your  decision?" 
The  Mayor  was  ready.  He  had  no  decision 
to  give,  he  said.  Jersey  City  was  going  to  take 
the  case  into  court,  and  the  courts  would  decide. 
McCarter  always  loses  his  temper  when  opposed 
by  an  honest  government.  "You  may  be  an  hon- 
est man,"  he  shouted  at  the  Mayor,  "  but  you  act 
like  a  blackmailer.  And  you,  George  Record, 
I'll  never  forgive  you  for  letting  me  put  my  good 
money  into  this  trolley  company  without  telling 


^4  UPBUILDERS 

me  what  you  knew  about  it."  He  insulted  them 
all,  one  by  one,  in  turn,  including  Sam  Dickinson, 
and  then  he  made  a  famous  threat  to  the  whole 
party: 
\  /  "  To  all  of  you  I  say,  you  can't  bring  your  suit 
'^  /without  the  consent  of  the  Attorney-general,  and 
(the  Attorney-general  is  my  brother." 
•-No  matter  what  an  honest  man  in  office  tries 
to  do,  if  he  persists,  he  comes  sooner  or  later  upon 
the  corrupt  business  back  of  corrupt  politics. 
And  no  matter  what  kind  of  reform  it  under- 
takes, an  honest  city  administration,  if  it  proceeds 
logically,  has  to  appeal  sooner  or  later  to  the  corrupt 
state  government  back  of  the  corrupt  city  gov- 
ernment. Mark  Fagan  had  come,  as  we  have  seen, 
upon  the  trolley  business,  and  when  Tom  McCarter 
pointed  to  his  brother  Robert  at  Trenton,  he 
was  showing  the  Mayor  of  Jersey  City  where  he 
must  go  next.  And  Mayor  Fagan  went  where 
Tom  McCarter  pointed,  and  what  Tom  McCarter 
predicted  happened.  When  Jersey  City  asked 
Attorney-general  McCarter  to  take  its  expired 
franchise  into  court,  Tom's  brother,  Robert, 
refused. 

Thus  Mark  Fagan  learned  that  the  trolley  was 
king  of  his  state.  And  he  was  to  learn  that  the 
railroad  was  queen. 

During  this,  his  first  administration,  the  Mayor 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  25 

had  been  able,  by  simply  catching  tax  dodgers 
and  "equalizing"  the  taxes  of  privileged  individ- 
uals and  corrupt  corporations,  to  buy  a  site  for  a 
new  high  school;  begin  one  school,  finish  another; 
put  up  eleven  temporary  schools,  thus  provid- 
ing seats  for  all  the  children  in  the  city;  and  make 
needed  repairs  in  all  the  schools.  He  had  built  a 
free  bath;  established  free  dispensaries;  extended 
one  park,  bought  another,  improved  two  more, 
and  given  free  concerts  in  them  all.  He  im- 
proved the  fire,  street-cleaning,  and  health 
departments,  and  he  repaired  and  extended  the 
sewerage  system.  But  he  wanted  to  do  more, 
and  he  needed  more  money.  How  could  he  get  it .? 
In  the  course  of  his  investigations  he  dis- 
covered, what  well-informed  persons  long  had 
known,  that  railroad  property  was  taxed  separately 
in  New  Jersey.  We  needn't  go  into  figures. 
The  point  was,  the  railroads  were  taxed  by  a 
state  board  which  they  controlled,  and  which 
enabled  them  to  fix  their  own  valuation.  Not 
only  that,  their  tax-rate,  as  fixed  by  law,  was 
lower  than  the  local  rate  on  ordinary  property. 
All  localities  suffered  more  or  less,  but  in  Jersey 
City,  where  the  railroads  needed  much  and  the 
most  valuable  ground  (water  front),  every  time 
they  bought  property  for  railroad  use,  they  not 
only  paid  less  taxes  on  it  than  the  private  owner 


26  UPBUILDERS 

had  paid,  but  they  took  it  off  the  city  list.  The 
obvious  effect  was  that  the  most  valuable  taxable 
property  in  the  city  constantly  decreased  and 
the  tax  on  the  rest  as  steadily  increased  and  must 
forever  increase. 

It  was  a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  Jersey 
City,  to  have  this  system  changed,  but  the  city 
was  helpless  alone.  Mark  Fagan,  renominated, 
had  to  promise  to  go  to  Trenton  with  this  business 
and  with  the  trolley  trouble.  It  was  an  excit- 
ing campaign.  The  railroads,  the  public  ser- 
vice companies,  the  taxed  corporations  —  all 
the  corrupt  and  privileged  interests  set  about 
beating  Mark  Fagan,  but  the  Mayor,  going 
from  house  to  house,  and  making,  man  to  man, 
his  simple  promise  to  be  "honest  and  true"  — 
defeated  the  system. 

Elected,  he  and  his  cabinet  went  to  the  legis- 
lature, and  they  had  their  bills  introduced.  Noth- 
ing came  of  a  bill  against  Robert  McCarter.  A 
franchise  tax  measure  was  still-born.  Their 
equal  tax  bill  was  crude,  so  the  Democrats  sub- 
stituted a  better  one  which  the  Jersey  City  Repub- 
licans accepted  and  supported.  Referred  to  a 
committee,  there  were  hearings  on  the  bill,  but 
it  was  buried  there.  The  silent  power  of  the 
king  and  the  queen  of  the  state  would  not  let  it 
come  out. 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  27 

Mark  Fagan,  with  his  staring  eyes,  saw  that  the^X 
government  of  his  state,  the  control  of  his  own  ' 
party  was  in  the  hands  of  the  most  favoured 
men  in  and  out  of  the  state,  those  that  corrupted 
it  to  get  and  keep  privileges.  And  he  wanted 
to  say  so.  As  the  session  drew  to  a  close,  he  felt 
he  must  do  something,  but  what  ?  He  must 
appeal  from  the  state  to  the  people  of  the  state. 
How  ?  Somebody  suggested  a  letter  to  Governor 
Murphy,  and  they  drew  up  one  which  described 
what  Mark  Fagan  saw.  The  Mayor  wanted  to 
publish  it  right  away.  Record  objected  that  he 
"couldn't  see  the  end  of  it."  The  Mayor  said  it 
was  true;  it  was  his  duty  to  say  it;  and  he  wanted 
to  "let  the  consequences  go."  Record  sug- 
gested showing  it  to  Dickinson.  The  Mayor 
said  "no";  it  is  characteristic  of  him  to  avoid 
consulting  those  of  his  advisers  who,  he  thinks, 
will  oppose  an  act  he  believes  to  be  right.  Record 
did  show  it  to  Dickinson,  however,  and  to  his 
surprise  the  boss  was  for  it.  The  Public  Ser- 
vice crowd  from  Essex  had  beaten  some  political 
legislation  of  his,  so  the  Colonel,  a  vindictive  man, 
was  for  revenge.  Record  advised  one  more 
appeal  to  Governor  Murphy,  and  he  thought 
that  was  agreed  upon.  And  Governor  Murphy, 
understanding  that  the  letter  was  to  be  with- 
held, had  a  luncheon  with  the  other  leaders,  who 


28  UPBUILDERS 

decided  to  do  "anything  you  want/'  Mean- 
while, however,  Fagan  and  Dickinson  had  handed 
to  the  reporters  Pagan's  famous  letter  to  the 
Hon.  Franklin  Murphy,  Governor  of  New  Jersey: 

March  24,  1904. 

"My  dear  Sir:  As  Mayor  of  Jersey  City  and 
also  a  member  of  the  Republican  party,  I  venture 
to  address  to  you  this  public  communication  in 
the  hope  of  averting  a  possible  calamity  to  Jersey 
City  and  almost  certain  disaster  to  the  Repub- 
lican party  of  New  Jersey.  The  present  session 
of  the  legislature  is  drawing  to  a  close.  Its 
record,  on  the  whole,  is  bad  and  in  some  respects 
is  disgraceful.  Its  control  by  corporation  in- 
terests, in  the  assembly  at  least,  has  been  abso- 
lute. For  this  condition  the  Republican  party 
is  responsible. 

"The  bills  for  equal  taxation  demanded  by  a 
practically  unanimous  public  sentiment,  in  all 
New  Jersey  at  least,  have  been  buried  in  com- 
mittee at  the  command  of  the  railroad  corpora- 
tions, and  every  attempt  to  move  them  has  been 
resisted  by  a  solid  Republican  vote  upon  the  test 
motions.  The  Republican  majority  has  made 
no  attempt  to  defend  this  action,  and  has  thereby 
admitted  that  it  cannot  be  defended.     .     .     . 

"Bills  affecting  Jersey  City,    notably    several 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  29 

bills  to  empower  the  city  to  sell  its  surplus 
water  to  neighbouring  communities,  which  it 
has  supplied  for  twenty  years,  and  which  desire 
to  renew  contracts  with  us,  have  been  buried 
in  committee. 

"  A  bill  to  ratify  a  water  contract  recently  made 
between  Jersey  City  and  East  Newark  was  intro- 
duced early  in  the  session,  and  referred  to  the 
committee  on  boroughs,  which  committee  still 
holds  it.  The  bill  was  afterward  introduced 
under  another  number,  and  re-referred  to  the 
committee  on  municipal  corporations,  where  it 
still  reposes. 

"A  bill  to  allow  Jersey  City  to  test  the  right  to 
a  trolley  franchise,  which  we  are  advised  by 
counsel  has  expired,  has  met  a  similar  fate. 
Our  most  determined  efforts  to  get  these  com- 
mittees to  act  have  been  unavailing,  because  of 
the  Republican  members  thereof,  but  we  can 
get  no  satisfactory  reason  for,  nor  explanation  of, 
this  action.     .     .     . 

"^Miat  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ^  The  answer 
is  plain.  A  Republican  legislature  is  controlled 
by  the  railroad,  trolley,  and  water  corporations. 
And  the  interests  of  the  people  are  being  betrayed. 

"While  I  charge  no  man  with  personal  corrup- 
tion, I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  this  is  a  condi- 
tion of  affairs  which  is  essentially  corrupt,  and 


30  UPBUILDERS 

which,  if  unchecked,  means  the  virtual  control 
of  our  state  and  our  party  by  corporations. 

"As  a  citizen  I  say  that  this  condition  is  danger- 
ous and  demoralizing.  As  a  public  official  I 
protest  against  this  injustice  done  to  Jersey 
City.  As  a  member  of  the  Republican  party  I 
deplore  its  subserviency  to  corporate  greed  and 
injustice.  No  political  party  can  long  receive  the 
support  of  the  people  with  such  a  record  as  this 
Republican  legislature  is  making.    ..." 

"^Whatever  form  the  issue  takes  upon  which 
an  honest  man  in  politics  makes  his  first  fight, 
if  he  fights  on,  he  finally  will  come  to  the  real 
American  issue:  representative  government.  He 
may  start  out  like  Mayor  Fagan  for  good  govern- 
ment, or  like  Folk  to  prosecute  boodlers,  or  like 
President  Roosevelt  to  regulate  railroad  rates;  be- 
fore he  gets  through,  he  will  have  to  ask  the  people 
to  answer  the  question:  "Who  is  to  rule — ^the 
disinterested  majority  or  the  specially  interested, 
corrupt  few  ? "  And  to  make  their  answer,  the 
people  have  to  beat  the  boss,  who  is  the  agent  of 
the  businesses  that  rule  and  are  destroying  repre- 
sentative democracy. 

Mayor  Fagan's  letter  to  Governor  Murphy 
raised  the  great  question  in  New  Jersey.  It 
took   at   first   the  form  that   the   gentle   Mayor 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  31 

of  Jersey  City  had  given  it,  railroad  taxation. 
The  railroads  tried  to  keep  it  down.  Governor 
Murphy  appointed  a  commission  to  inquire  into 
the  need  of  a  change  in  railroad  tax  methods, 
but  the  Republicans  nominated  for  Governor 
Edward  C.  Stokes,  who  resigned  a  directorship  of 
a  branch  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  to  run,  and 
the  issue  of  the  campaign  was  the  Jersey  City 
issue.  And  Stokes  was  elected,  but  he  had  had 
to  promise,  and  public  opinion  and  the  out- 
rageous facts  forced  from  the  commission  a 
report  for  some  change.  And  "some  change'* 
was  made;  enough  to  relieve  Jersey  City,  but  not 
enough  to  hurt  the  railroads. 

The  people  of  Jersey  saw  that  the  railroads 
drew  that  law,  that  the  railroads  dominated  still 
their  state  government  —  the  railroads  and  the 
Public  Service  Corporation.  For,  besides  the 
railroad  legislation,  the  Jersey  City  men  con- 
tinued their  franchise  tax  fight.  And,  mean- 
while, Tom  McCarter  had  aroused  the  people  of 
Essex  County  to  resist  his  perpetual  franchise 
"grabs"  in  the  Oranges.  Jersey  City  wanted 
to  tax  franchises;  Essex  reformers  were  for  limit- 
ing them.  Record  saw  that  they  both  were 
fighting  one  enemy  and  he  advised  a  union,  and, 
because  he  was  wiser  than  the  Essex  leaders, 
he    and    Fagan   took   up   their   neighbours'    less 


32  UPBUILDERS 

essential  issue.  Everett  Colby,  a  young  Repub- 
lican assemblyman  from  Essex,  led  the  fight  for 
limited  franchises.  He  was  beaten  but  the  defeat 
showed  what  the  state  government  represented. 
So  they  went  home  to  raise  the  real  question. 
Fagan  and  Record  to  Jersey  City,  Colby  and  the 
Orange  men  to  Essex.  The  Orange  men  had 
seen  that  Carl  Lentz,  the  Republican  boss  of 
Essex  County,  who  ruled  them  at  home,  was  the 
agent,  at  Trenton,  of  the  railroads  and  of  the 
Public  Service  Corporation.  They  went  after 
him.  Lentz  declared  that  Colby  should  not  go 
back  to  the  legislature;  since  he  represented  the 
people,  not  the  corporations,  he  should  not  be 
renominated.  But  Assemblyman  Colby  said  he 
not  only  would  go  back;  he  would  go  back 
as  a  senator,  and  he  would  take  his  nomination 
and  his  election  from  the  people.  Fortunately, 
George  L.  Record,  far-sighted,  practical  re- 
former that  he  is,  had  engineered  through  the 
legislature  a  primary  election  law.  The  people 
had  a  chance  to  control  their  parties,  and  the 
Republicans  of  Essex  went  to  the  primaries,  and 
they  turned  the  party  over  to  Everett  Colby. 
Then  the  whole  people  of  Essex  turned  in,  and 
they  elected  Colby  senator  and  with  him,  a  solid 
assembly  delegation  pledged  to  represent  the 
public  interests. 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  33 

And  Jersey  City  did  likewise.  After  Dickinson 
and  his  mayor  had  given  out  the  Murphy  letter, 
the  railroad-trolley  rings  went  after  the  boss,  and 
they  got  him.  He  began  to  insist  in  Jersey  City 
upon  some  sort  of  compromise  with  the  Public 
Service  Corporation.  The  company  wanted  so.me 
new  grants.  The  city  couldn't  get  its  old  case 
into  court;  so  what  was  the  use  of  fighting  ?  Why 
not  settle  it  all  out  of  court .?  Mayor  Fagan  hung 
back,  but  his  cabinet  persuaded  him  to  talk  it 
over  with  Tom  McCarter.  McCarter  called, 
asking  for  perpetual  franchises.  The  Mayor  was 
willing  to  negotiate  on  the  basis  of  a  twenty-five- 
year  franchise.  McCarter  said  limited  franchises 
were  absurd  in  Jersey.  There  they  stuck  till 
Record  suggested,  as  a  compromise,  a  perpetual 
franchise  with  readjustments  of  the  terms  every 
twenty-five  years.  McCarter  thought  this  opened 
a  way  to  a  settlement;  so  did  the  Mayor;  and 
Dickinson,  feeling  that  he  had  "delivered  his 
man"  (the  Mayor),  sailed  for  Europe.  But  it 
wasn't  settled.  McCarter  demanded  fifty-year 
periods,  and  the  Mayor,  who  had  had  misgivings 
all  along,  broke  oflF  the  negotiations.  The  Pub- 
lic Service  had  its  way.  The  Democrats  controlled 
the  Street  and  Water  Board,  and  they  passed 
McCarter's  franchise  for  him. 

But  it  was  passed  over  the  Mayor's  veto,  and 


34  UPBUILDERS 

when  Dickinson  came  home  to  hear  that  not  his 
party  but  the  Democrats  had  sold  out  to  the  Pub- 
lic Service,  and  that  he  was  left,  as  before,  in  the 
ridiculous  position  of  boss  who  couldn't  deliver 
his  Mayor,  he  was  angry.  And  all  through  the 
next  session  he  opposed  the  legislation  asked  for 
by  his  city.  He  joined  the  other  bosses  against  the 
people,  and,  like  Lentz,  Dickinson  went  home  to 
beat  "his  man"  for  renomination.  Like  Everett 
Colby,  Mark  Fagan  accepted  the  challenge;  he 
received  the  nomination  for  Mayor  from  the  Repub- 
licans direct  and  he  took  the  organization  besides. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  people  with  this  appeal: 

**  I  find  myself,  at  the  opening  of  the  campaign, 
confronted  by  a  threefold  opposition.  First, 
that  of  the  Democratic  machine  and  its  absolute 
boss;  second,  the  scarcely  concealed  and  treach- 
erous opposition  of  a  Republican  party  leader, 
whose  demands  in  behalf  of  his  corporate  clients 
I  have  refused  to  grant;  third,  the  secret  but  pow- 
erful opposition  of  a  combination  of  public  ser- 
vice and  railroad  corporations,  whose  unjust 
corporate  privileges  are  threatened  by  my  reelec- 
tion. The  opposition  of  the  corporations  and 
the  reasons  therefor,  and  the  close  business  rela- 
tions between  them  and  the  Democratic  boss  are 
well   understood   by   the   public.     The   relations 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  35 

between   these    corporations,   or   some   of  them, 
and  the  RepubHcan  boss,  are  not  so  well  known. 

"  I  explicitly  charge  that  this  Republican  leader 
is  doing  everything  in  his  power  to  defeat  my 
reelection;  that  his  efforts  to  that  end  are  jeopar- 
dizing the  whole  Republican  ticket;  and  that  this 
action  is  in  the  interest  of  the  public  service  and 
railroad   corporations.     .     .     . 

"These  facts,  and  many  others  too  numerous 
to  mention,  have  convinced  me  that  it  is  time  to 
come  out  in  the  open  and  have  a  square  stand-up 
fight  against  the  Republican  boss,  the  Democratic 
boss,  and  the  trolley  and  railroad  corporations 
which  control  them  both.  It  is  impossible  for 
a  public  official  to  get  along  permanently  with 
a  boss,  except  upon  terms  of  abject  obedience  and 
the  sacrifice  of  self-respect.  Personally  I  am 
tired  of  the  experiment.  I  am  sick  of  talk  of 
party  harmony,  which  means  surrender  of 
personal  independence  and  of  popular  rights. 
It  is  time  to  fight  the  boss  system  itself,  by  which 
unscrupulous  men  get  between  the  people  and  the 
public  officials  by  control  of  the  party  machinery, 
betray  the  people,  acquire  riches  for  themselves, 
and  attempt  to  drive  out  of  public  life  all  who  will 
not  take  orders  from  the  boss,  and  his  real  mas- 
ters, the  corporations. 

"MarkM.Fagan." 


36  UPBUILDERS 

So  the  fight  that  fall,  in  Jersey  City,  as  in  Essex 
County  and  in  New  York,  as  in  Toledo  and 
Cincinnati,  and  Cleveland  and  Philadelphia,  and 
in  Ohio  and  in  Pennsylvania,  was  a  fight  against 
the  bosses.  And  as  in  those  places,  so  in  Jersey 
City,  the  people  crossed  all  party  lines  to  follow 
the  leader,  and  they  beat  the  bosses.  Mark 
Fagan  was  reelected  Mayor  of  Jersey  City,  and 
he  and  Senator  Colby  and  the  reformers  of  Jersey 
combined  against  the  interests  which  the  bosses 
f\.   represented. 

But  never  mind  Jersey!  What  of  Mark  Fagan, 
the  man  who  by  following  the  facts,  without  a 
theory  of  reform,  by  tackling  each  obstacle  as  he 
approached  it,  came  out  upon  the  truth  and  gave 
his  state  its  issues  and  aroused  it  finally  to  take 
part  in  the  second  war  for  independence  that 
is  waging  all  over  this  country .?  I  have  told 
simply  the  simple  story  of  this  simple  man.  The 
--.-.„  mystery  remains.  Why  did  Mark  Fagan  do  it  ? 
That  is  what  they  ask  in  Jersey  City,  and  that  is 
what  the  commercial  spirit  of  this  Christian  land 
asks  of  Folk  and  La  FoUette  and  Tom  Johnson. 
What  prompted  them  to  do  something  for  others  ? 
What  are  they  after  ?  What  is  there  in  it  for  them  ? 
And  how  and  why  do  they  win  .? 

His  bitterest  foes — the  grafters  —  concede 
Fagan's  honesty.     "  Bob  '*  Davis  was  the  only  one 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  37 

that  offered  any  doubts  on  that  point,  and  he 
offered  them  to  me;  he  had  none  of  his  own. 
Pressed  for  facts,  he  admitted  that  Fagan  was 
"personally  on  the  square."  The  bigger  grafters  ^)C, 
said  Fagan  was  a  demagogue.  This  is  ridiculous. 
He  addresses  no  prejudices,  stirs  no  passions, 
makes  no  appeal  to  class;  he  seems  to  have  no 
sense  of  class.  His  talks,  like  his  speeches,  are 
so  plain  that  the  wonder  is  that  they  count  as 
they  do  count,  winning  for  him,  a  Republican, 
a  majority  in  a  Democratic  city.  I  asked  the 
politicians  to  explain  it.  Mark  has  a  relative, 
Jimmy  Connolly,  once  a  saloon-keeper,  always 
a  hard-headed  politician.  When  Mr.  Record 
confessed  he  could  not  account  for  it  he  referred 
me  to  Jimmy  Connolly,  and  I  asked  Connolly: 
"How  does  Mark  Fagan  do  it?" 
"  You  can  search  me,"  said  he.  "  I've  watched 
him,  and  I've  listened  to  him,  and  I  give  it  up. 
And  you  can  ast  anybody  in  this  town;  we've  all 
ast  ourselves  and  that  is  where  you'll  end  up. 
You'll  ast  yourself.  I  don't  know  what  he  says, 
and  I've  listened  to  him,  but  he  doesn't  say  noth- 
ing. Leastways,  if  you  or  the  likes  of  me  said  to 
a  fellar  what  Mark  says,  I  can  just  hear  the  fellar 
say,  'Say,  what  ye  givin'  me,  what?'  'Say,'  he'd 
say,  'haven't  ye  got  th'  price  of  a  drink  in  your 
clothes  ? '     But  when  Mark  says  it,  what  he  says, 


38  UPBUILDERS 

they  fall  down  to  it  like  dead  soldiers.  Nope,  you 
got  to  find  that  out  for  yerself." 

And  an  idea  struck  him.  "Maybe  you  can/' 
he  said.  "Now,  maybe  you  can.  I'll  get  a  wagon 
and  we'll  go  chase  Mark  out  to  the  railroad  yards, 
and  you'll  listen  to  him  yerself,  and  maybe  you 
can  tell  me." 

Out  to  the  yards  we  went,  and  we  joined  the 
Mayor.  He  was  going  up  to  a  group  of  men,  who 
stopped  work,  wiped  their  hands  on  their  clothes, 
and  formed  a  shy  group. 

"I'm  Mark  Fagan,"  said  the  Mayor  as  shyly. 
"I  have  tried  to  serve  you  honestly  and  faith- 
fully. I  don't  know  how  well,  but  you  know  my 
record.  That's  the  way  to  judge  a  man  —  by 
his  record.  And  if  you  don't  understand  anything 
in  it,  I'd  like  to  have  you  ask  me  about  it.  If  you 
think  I  have  done  right  in  most  things,  I'd  like 
to  have  your  support." 

That  was  all.  They  shook  hands,  saying 
nothing,  and  he  moved  on. 

"  Understand  that  ? "  said  Connelly  at  my 
elbow.  "  Every  one  of  'em  '11  vote  for  him.  Why  ? 
What's  there  to  it?" 

Mark  climbed  up  into  the  switch  tower  and 
began :  "  I  am  Mark  Fagan ^" 

"You  needn't  waste  your  time  here,"  said 
the    tower    man,    looking    around    steadily.     "I 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  39 

know  you're  Mark  Fagan,  and  I  know  what 
you're  doing.  And  I'll  vote  for  you  till  hell  freezes 
over."  He  flung  over  the  switch,  and  Mark 
retreated,  abashed. 

"He  knows  me,"  he  said  wonderingly  to  me 
when  he  came  down.  Of  course  they  all  know 
the  Mayor,  but  the  Mayor  can't  call  them  by 
name;  he  hasn't  a  good  memory  for  either  names 
or  faces,  and  I  saw  him  talk  to  men  he  had  talked 
to  before.  So  there  is  no  flattery,  and  no  famil- 
iarity, and  that  was  one  point  which  missed  Con- 
nolly, who  couldn't  understand  why  those  men 
didn't  laugh  or  josh  the  Mayor.  "Why  don't 
they  give  him  a  song  and  dance  ?"  he  said. 

One  man  in  a  group  I  joined  before  the  Mayor 
reached  it  did  say  he  was  going  to  "have  some 
fun  with  Mark,"  and  the  others  in  a  mood  for 
horse  play,  dared  the  bold  one  to  ask  Fagan  for 
"  the  price  of  a  drink."  I  thought  the  man  would, 
but  when  Mark  came  up,  saying,  "I  am  Mark 
Fagan;  I  have  been  Mayor  for  two  terms,  and  I 
have  tried  to  serve  you,"  etc.,  etc.,  the  bold  man 
was  silent;  they  were  all  respectful,  and  the 
psychology  was  plain  enough. 

The  Mayor  speaks,  what  Connolly  calls  "his 
little  piece,"  with  dignity,  with  the  grave  dig- 
nity of  self-respect,  and  you  feel,  and  those  men 
feel,  the  perfect  sincerity  of  Mark  Fagan. 


40  UPBUILDERS 

m 

But  that  didn't  satisfy  Jim  Connolly,  and  it 
wouldn't  satisfy  anybody  in  Jersey  City.  It 
didn't  satisfy  me,  and  since  nobody  else  could 
help  me,  I  went  to  Mark  himself.  I  went  to  his 
home  with  him,  and  I  asked  him  questions.  He 
squirmed,  and  it  wasn't  pleasant  for  me;  but  I 
had  a  theory  I  wanted  to  test.  Maybe  it  wasn't 
right  to  probe  thus  into  the  soul  of  a  man,  and 
maybe  it  isn't  fine  to  show  what  you  see.  It  hurt 
Mark  Fagan,  that  interview,  and  the  report  of  it 
will  hurt  more.  But  I  am  thinking  of  those  of 
us  who  need  to  see  what  I  saw  when  I  looked  in 
upon  the  soul  of  Mark  Fagan. 

Why  had  he  done  the  things  that  had  been 
done  for  Jersey  City .?  That  was  the  main  ques- 
tion. He  said  he  hadn't  done  those  things,  not 
alone.  His  cabinet  had  done  them.  He  gave 
full  credit  to  his  associates,  and  he  gave  it  hon- 
estly, as  if  he  wished  to  be  believed.  But,  as 
Record  says,  whatever  of  knowledge  and  resources 
he  and  the  rest  contributed  to  the  Mayor,  it  was 
the  Mayor  who  furnished  the  courage,  the  steady 
will  —  the  transparent  character. 

"What  is  your  purpose,  Mr.  Mayor.?" 

He  elaborated  his  idea  of  making  Jersey  City 
pleasant.  He  talked  about  clean  streets,  good 
water  and  light  service,  and  schools.  "Now  the 
schools  —  I  think  the  schools  shouldn't  be  shut 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  41 

up  when  school  is  out.  Don't  you  think  it  would 
be  nice  if  the  mothers  could  go  there,  and  the 
girls,  and  learn  to  sew  and  other  things  ?  I'd 
like  to  have  a  gymnasium  in  the  schools;  and  a 
swimming  tank.  The  schools  ought  to  be  the 
place  where  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  go 
to  read  and  hear  lectures,  and  hold  meetings, 
and  for  the  children  to  play.  Do  you  think  that 
is  foolish  ? " 

He  hadn't  read  of  the  efforts  elsewhere  for 
these  ends.  He  was  glad  to  know  his  scheme  had 
struck  others  as  feasible. 

"I  don't  see  why  things  shouldn't  be  useful, 
like  that,  and  pretty.  Do  you  think  it  would  be 
foolish  —  I  haven't  talked  about  this  to  the  others, 
but  do  you  think  it  would  be  so  foolish  to  have 
flowers  in  the  schools  ? " 

**  Why  do  you  care  about  other  people  ? "  I 
asked.    "You  seem  to  like  men.    Do  you  really  ?" 

His  look  answered  that,  but  he  went  on  to  talk 
about  his  boyhood  and  his  experiences  as  an 
undertaker.  These  would  make  anybody  like  the 
people,  he  thought. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  the  people?"  I  asked. 
"The  poor  people  .?  The  working  people  ?  When 
you  address  a  crowd,  do  you  appeal  to  labour  as 
labour,  to  the  unions,  for  example } " 

"Oh,  no.     I  never  do  that.     I  mean  everybody. 


42  UPBUILDERS 

The  poor  need  the  most,  and  most  people  over 
here  work,  but  by  people  I  mean  men  and  women 
and  children,  everybody." 

"Railroad  presidents?  Do  you  hate  the 
railroads  ?'* 

"No,"  he  said,  reflecting.  "They  do  a  good 
deal  that  is  wrong.  They  corrupt  young  men, 
and  they  don't  care  anything  about  Jersey  City. 
They  should  stop  corrupting  politics,  but  you  can't 
expect  them  to  look  out  for  us.  We  must  do 
that."  He  paused.  "I  have  hated  men,  almost, 
some  of  these  corporation  men,  but  I  don't  any 
more.  I  used  to  hate  men  that  said  things  about 
me  that  weren't  true,  that  weren't  just.  But 
I've  got  over  that  now." 

"  How  did  you  get  over  it  ? " 

"I  have  a  way,"  he  said,  evidently  meaning 
not  to  tell  it. 

"You  must  have  been  tempted  often  in  the  four 
years  you  have  been  in  office.  Have  you  ever 
been  offered  a  bribe  ? " 

"Only  once,  but  that  was  by  a  man  sent  by 
somebody  else.  He  didn't  know  what  he  was 
doing,  and  I  didn't  blame  him  so  much  as  I  did 
those  who  sent  him." 

"But  the  subtler  temptations,  how  did  you 
resist  them  ? " 

"  I  have  a  way,"  he  said,  again. 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  43 

This  time  I  pressed  him  for  it;  he  evaded  the 
point,  and  I  urged  that  if  he  knew  a  way,  and  a 
good  way,  to  resist  political  temptations,  others 
should  know  of  it. 

He  was  most  uncomfortable.  "It's  a  good 
way,"  he  said,  looking  down.  Then,  looking  up, 
he  almost  whispered:  "I  pray.  When  I  take  an 
oath  of  office,  I  speak  it  slowly.  I  say  each  word, 
thinking  how  it  is  an  oath,  and  afterward  I  pray 
for  strength  to  keep  it." 

"A  silent  prayer?" 

"Yes." 

"And  that  helps?  Against  the  daily  temp- 
tations too  ?" 

"Yes,  but  I — every  morning  when  I  go  up 
the  steps  of  City  Hall,  I  ask  that  I  may  be  given 
to  recognize  temptations  when  they  come  to  me, 
and  —  to  resist  them.  And  at  night,  I  go  over 
every  act  and  I  give  thanks  if  I  have  done  no 
injury  to  any  man." 

"When  you  were  considering  whether  you 
would  give  out  that  letter  to  Governor  Murphy, 
why  did  you  say,  'Let  the  consequences  go'  ?" 

"Well,  when  anything  is  to  be  done  that  I  think 
is  right,  and  the  rest  say  it  might  hurt  my  political 
career,  I  ask  myself  if  such  thoughts  are  tempt- 
ing me,  and  if  I  think  they  are,  I  do  that  thing 
quick.     That  was  the  way  of  the  Murphy  letter." 


44  UPBUILDERS 

"They  say  you  want  to  be  Governor  of  New 
Jersey  ?" 

j  "I  know  that  I  don't,"  he  said  quietly.  "I 
have  asked  myself  that,  and  I  know  that  I  don't. 
I  don't  think  that  I  would  be  able  to  be  the  Gov- 
ernor; I  mean,  able  to  do  much  for  people  in  that 
high  office." 

"What  do  you  want  to  do,  then  ?" 

"Why,  what  I  am  doing  now." 

"Always?  Do  you  mean  that  you'd  like  to 
be  Mayor  of  Jersey  City  all  your  life  ? " 

He  looked  up  as  if  I  had  caught  him  at  some- 
thing foolish  or  extravagant,   but  he  answered: 

"  If  I  could  be  —  if  I  could  go  on  doing  things 
for  the  people  all  my  life,  as  Mayor,  I  should 
be  very  happy.  But  I  can't,  I  suppose,  so  I 
shall  be  satisfied  to  have  done  so  well  that 
whoever  comes  after  me  can't  do  badly  without 
the  people  noticing  it." 

"Well,  what  do  you  get  out  of  serving  others, 
Mr.  Mayor  ?     Try  to  tell  me  that  truly." 

He  did  try.  "I  am  getting  to  be  a  better 
man.     You  know  I'm  a  Catholic " 

"Yes,  and  some  people  say  the  Catholics  are 
against  the  public  schools.  Why  have  you  done 
so  much  for  them  ?" 

He  was  surprised.  "I  am  Mayor  of  all  the 
people,  and  the  schools  are  good  for  the  people." 


MARK  FAGAN,  MAYOR  45 

"Well,  you  were  saying  that  you  are  a 
Catholic " 

"Yes,  and  I  go  to  confession  ever  so  often. 
I  try  to  have  less  to  confess  each  time,  and  I  find 
that  I  have.  Gradually,  I  am  getting  to  be  a 
better  man.  What  I  told  you  about  hating  men 
that  were  unfair  to  me  shows.  Some  of  them 
were  very  unfair;  from  hating  them  Tve  got  so 
that  I  don't  feel  anything  but  sorry  for  them, 
that  they  can't  understand  how  I'm  trying  to  be 
right  and  just  to  everybody.  Maybe  some  day 
I  will  be  able  to  like  them." 

"Like  them  also!  What  is  it,  Mr.  Mayor, 
altruism  or  selfishness  ?  Is  it  love  for  your  neigh- 
bour or  the  fear  of  God  that  moves  you  f 

He  thought  long  and  hard,  and  then  he  was 
"  afraid  it  was  the  fear  of  God." 

"What  is  your  favourite  book,  Mr.  Mayor.?" 

"*The  Imitation  of  Christ.'  Did  you  ever 
read  it  ?     I  read  a  little  in  it,  anywhere,  every  day." 

I  wouldn't  tell  Jimmy  Connolly,  nor  "Bob" 
Davis,  nor  Sam  Dickinson,  nor,  to  their  faces, 
could  I  say  it  to  many  men  in  Jersey  City;  I'd 
rather  write  than  speak  it  anywhere  in  this  hard, 
selfish  world  of  ours,  but  I  do  believe  I  understand 
Mark  Fagan,  how  he  makes  men  beheve  in  him, 
why  he  wants  to:  The  man  is  a  Christian,  a  literal 
Christian;  no  mere  member  of  a  church,  but  a 


46  UPBUILDERS 

follower  of  Christ;  no  patron  of  organized  char- 
ities, but  a  giver  of  kindness,  sympathy,  love. 
Like  a  disciple,  he  has  carried  "the  greatest  of 
these"  out  into  the  streets,  through  the  railroad 
yards,  up  to  the  doors  of  the  homes  and  factories, 
w^here  he  has  knocked,  offering  only  service,  hon- 
est and  true,  even  in  public  office.  And  that  is 
why  he  is  the  marvel  of  a  "Christian"  commun- 
ity in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1909.  And,  believe 
me,  that  is  how  and  why  Mark  some  day  will 
make  his  Jersey  City  "pretty."  This  gentle  man 
has  found  a  way  to  solve  his  problems,  and  ours, 
graft,  railroad  rates  and  the  tariff.  There  may 
be  other  ways,  but,  verily,  if  we  loved  our  neigh- 
bour as  ourselves  we  would  not  then  betray  and 
rob  and  bribe  him.  Impracticable  .?  It  does  sound 
so — I  wonder  why  ? — to  Christian  ears.  And  may- 
be we  are  wrong;  maybe  Christ  was  right.  Cer- 
tainly Mark  Fagan  has  proved  that  the  Christian- 
ity of  Christ  —  not  as  the  scholars  "interpret" 
it,  but  as  the  Nazarene  taught  it,  and  as  you  and 
I  and  the  Mayor  of  Jersey  City  can  understand 
it  —  Christianity,  pure  and  simple,  is  a  force 
among  men  and  —  a  happiness.  Anyhow,  that 
is  all  there  is  to  the  mystery  of  Mark  Fagan;  that 
is  what  he  means. 


EVERETT    COLBY,    "THE  GENTLEMAN 
FROM  ESSEX" 

AMONG  the  new  political  leaders  whom  a 
reviving  democracy  is  raising  up  to  beat 
the  bosses  (and  perhaps  the  real  rulers)  of 
the  Republic,  is  Everett  Colby,  the  state  senator 
from  Essex  County,  New  Jersey.  Born  in  1874, 
he  was  only  thirty-two  years  old  when  he  "  busted  " 
his  boss;  he  shows  what  a  young  man  can  do. 
The  son  of  Charles  L.  Colby,  builder  of  the 
Wisconsin  Central  Railroad,  he  inherited  wealth 
and  the  associations  of  big  business;  he  shows 
what  a  rich  young  man  may  do  if  he  rises  above 
his  class.  And  the  gentleman  from  Essex  was 
brought  up  in  a  class. 

Imperial  Kipling  has  raged  at  the  "flanneled 
fools"  of  England.  Did  you  know  we  had  them  ? 
We  have.  There  is  a  constantly  growing  class 
of  rich  men's  sons  who  can  throw  as  much  strength, 
nerve  and  concentrated  intelligence  into  sport 
as  their  fathers  put  into  the  game  of  life;  but,  hav- 
ing been  brought  up  only  to  play,  they  can't  work 
—  "can't,"  not  "won't."  They  don't  know 
how;  they  don't  know  anything  but  games,  and 

47 


48  UPBUILDERS 

they  cannot  learn.  Everett  Colby  was  headed 
straight  for  this  fate  when  a  man  got  hold  of  him 
—  J.  A.  Browning,  a  teacher  who  teaches.  He 
took  a  small  class  of  boys  who  had  busy  fathers 
and  loving  mothers:  Harold  and  Stanley  McCor- 
mick,  Percy  and  John  D.  Rockefeller,  Jr.,  and 
Everett  Colby.  Everett  Colby  was  in  the  worst 
condition.  The  boy  could  only  play.  "He 
played  hard,"  says  Mr.  Browning,  "but  it  was 
sport,  not  work.  He  couldn't  read  till  he  was 
fifteen;  he  couldn't  fix  his  attention.  I  got  into 
his  mind  through  his  hands.  He  liked  to  play 
with  tools.  I  let  him.  It  was  play  till  once  I 
set  him  to  making  a  bookcase  for  his  mother. 
He  finished  that,  and  it  was  good,  and  it  was 
work.'' 

Young  Colby  was  prepared  for  Brown,  where 
he  went  to  college  with  young  John  D.  He  still 
"played  hard."  He  was  a  splendid  young  male 
when  he  entered;  he  went  in  for  all  the  sports: 
tennis,  golf,  baseball;  and,  making  the  team, 
was  captain  in  his  senior  year  of  the  best  football 
eleven  Brown  ever  put  into  the  field.  But  he 
worked,  too,  and  he  was  graduated  with  his 
class,  '97.  In  the  next  year,  after  the  death  of 
his  father,  he  made  a  tour  around  the  world;  then 
he  studied  law  and  played  polo;  then  he  married 
and    settled   down   in   Llewellyn    Park,   Orange, 


EVERETT  COLBY 


EVERETT  COLBY  49 

New  Jersey.  He  didn't  mean  to  stay  there,  but  he 
got  into  politics.  He  became  a  Wall  Street  broker, 
but  it  was  politics  that  saved  Everett  Colby. 

Now,  young  Colby  meant  to  go  into  politics. 
As  a  "little  shaver"  he  used  to  go  along  with  his 
father,  who  campaigned  in  Wisconsin  as  a  rail- 
road man.  He  dreamed  that  when  he  grew  up 
he  would  be  a  politician,  and,  because  the  dream 
persisted,  he  went  in  for  debating  in  college,  and 
afterward  for  the  law.  But  it  was  the  scenic  side 
of  the  game  that  appealed  to  him,  the  crowd  and 
the  excitement,  the  fighting,  the  speaking  and  the 
cheers.  He  says  so  himself.  He  was  after  glory, 
and  maybe  that  is  all  he  is  after  now.  He  doesn't 
pretend  to  know.  But  there  lies  the  peculiar 
significance  of  the  career  of  this  rich  young  gen- 
tleman in  politics.  He  simply  wanted  to  go  into 
politics  —  not  to  accomplish  anything  in  particular; 
not  to  reform  politics;  not  even  with  the  thought 
of  being  practical  in  politics.  He  went  in  on  the 
machine  side,  and  he  served  "the  party";  he  put 
in  his  money;  he  took  orders;  and  he  obeyed  the 
boss  till  he  saw  what  politics  meant.  Even 
then  he  didn't  revolt  right  away;  he  objected  as 
a  gentleman  to  doing  things  a  gentleman  couldn't 
do,  but  he  "went  along"  till  he  discovered  as  an 
insider  what  we  have  discovered  from  the  outside: 
that  the  evils  of  politics,  so-called,  were  all  parts 


50  UPBUILDERS 

of  one  system  which  is  perverting  our  government 
from  a  representative  democracy  to  a  pluto- 
cratic tyranny.  When  this  was  beaten  into  his 
head,  Everett  Colby  fought  Hke  a  citizen  and  a 
man.  Wherefore  his  experiences  are  not  only  the 
story  of  a  new  political  leader,  but  an  inside  view 
of  the  System  in  action. 

When  young  Colby  spoke  of  going  into  politics, 
somebody  advised  him  to  see  Carl  Lentz.  This 
German-American  was  the  Republican  boss  of 
Essex  County.  Bosses  were  as  natural  to  our 
young  American  as  the  north  wind  or  the  road 
to  Newark,  and  he  went  to  Newark  and  he  saw 
Carl  Lentz.  He  says  the  boss  talked  to  him  a 
long  while.  Colby  doesn't  recall  what  was  said, 
but  I  can  hear  the  boss  drawing  out  and  smacking 
his  lips  over  an  attractive  young  man  of  means; 
free  with  his  money  and,  therefore,  "useful"; 
the  son  of  a  railroad  magnate  and,  therefore, 
"safe";  attractive  and  honest,  therefore  promising 
as  a  "good  man"  candidate,  and  cheap.  All 
the  boy  wanted  was  to  "make  speeches";  he 
thought  politics  was  oratory. 

"He  let  me  speak,"  Colby  says.  "Small  meet- 
ings for  a  while,  then  I  held  the  crowd  at  larger 
meetings.  I  spoke  till  the  advertised  speaker 
came,  when,  amid  the  shouts  for  him,  I  sat  down 
unnoticed,  but  well  satisfied  with  myself." 


EVERETT  COLBY  51 

He  was  in  politics,  and  having  got  in  as  many 
another  fool  young  American  has  got  in,  he  was 
taken  up  and  taken  in,  as  the  rest  are.  Lentz 
flattered  Colby;  then  he  passed  him  on  to  Gov- 
ernor Voorhees,  who  flattered  him.  "Seeing  the 
Governor"  was  honour  enough  for  the  year  1901, 
but  when  the  Governor  asked  him  if  he  wanted  to 
get  into  politics  and  the  young  man  said  he  did, 
and  the  Governor  off'ered  to  appoint  him  to  an 
office,  the  novice  was  overwhelmed  with  grati- 
tude and  modesty.  He  didn't  know  that  to  be  a 
Commissioner  on  the  State  Board  of  Education 
was  simply  to  be  put  to  a  harmless  test  —  by  the 
machine.  Colby  thought  of  his  education  and 
worried  about  his  fitness,  but  he  took  the  place, 
and  he  did  very  well,  very  well,  indeed.  Then 
Boss  Lentz  made  him  chairman  of  the  executive 
committee  of  the  Republican  organization  of  West 
Orange. 

"I  thought  Lentz  was  a  great  fellow,"  he  says 
now,  "a  great  man."  Lentz  loomed  as  large  to 
Colby,  probably,  as  Durham  looked  to  a  Phila- 
delphian.  Cox  to  a  Cincinnati  Republican,  Ruef 
to  a  San  Franciscan,  or  Murphy  to  a  New  Yorker. 
The  bosses  live  on  the  images  we  create  of  them, 
out  of  our  own  silliness. 

The  chairmanship  —  "actual  practical  poli- 
tics, with  great    responsibility" — came  in  1902. 


52  UPBUILDERS 

Of  course,  young  Colby  had  to  spend  some  of  his 
own  money,  and  he  did.  He  was  all  right,  Colby 
was.  In  the  next  year  Lentz  offered  him  the  sen- 
atorship  from  Essex.  That  was  too  much.  The 
young  man,  modest  now,  was  sure  then  that  he 
could  not  be  a  senator.  In  the  first  place  he  was 
under  the  constitutional  age.  That  didn't  mat- 
ter. Lentz  could  "  have  that  fixed  in  the  Manual,** 
where  the  statistics  of  legislators  are  kept.  This 
sounded  a  little  queer,  like  a  rather  unusual  north 
wind  or  a  bad  road  to  Newark,  noticeable,  but 
still  a  perfectly  natural  phenomenon.  Colby 
refused  to  go  to  the  senate;  but  he  consented  to 
go  to  the  assembly,  so  Lentz  had  him  nomi- 
nated, and  elected,  an  assemblyman  from  Essex. 

The  education  of  this  young  legislator  was 
begun  promptly,  and  it  resembled  very  closely 
the  course  of  his  education  as  a  boy.  He  saw 
things  with  his  eyes  long  before  he  saw  them  with 
his  mind;  he  saw  facts  separately,  but  failed  to 
combine  them  into  the  truth.  He  failed,  as  so 
many  of  us  fail,  for  want  of  imagination,  and  his 
story  is  the  story  of  thousands  of  young  men  who 
go  into  politics  and  go  along  till  some  day  they 
wake  up  and  find  that  they  are  part  of  a  corrupted 
government. 

One  day,  early  in  the  session,  Sam  Dickinson 
asked  Assemblyman  Colby  to  introduce  certain 


EVERETT  COLBY  53 

excise  bills.  Dickinson  was  Secretary  of  State 
and  Republican  boss  of  Hudson  County,  a  "great 
fellow''  like  Lentz.  And,  like  Lentz,  Dickinson 
probably  saw  at  once  the  uses  of  a  fine,  up-stand- 
ing young  gentleman  to  "stand  for"  a  piece  of 
dubious  excise  legislation.  Colby  looked  over 
the  bills;  they  seemed  to  him  to  be  merely  a 
weapon  to  help  the  Republican  machine  take  away 
from  the  Democrats  the  control  of  Democratic 
Hudson  County.  He  hesitated.  He  went  to 
see  the  Governor  about  it.  Governor  Murphy 
was  a  gentleman  and  the  father  of  a  friend  of 
Colby's.  The  young  assemblyman  didn't  know 
that  governors  are  usually  mere  figureheads  for 
the  System;  he  felt  only  that  he  could  trust  the 
Honourable  Franklin  Murphy.  And  when  the 
Honourable  Franklin  Murphy  pronounced  the 
bills  "all  right,"  Colby  was  reassured.  He  intro- 
duced them  in  the  House. 

Colby's  own  pet  measure  —  for  every  legis- 
lator thinks  he  must  put  some  new  law  upon  the 
books  —  was  a  normal  school  bill.  Then  Essex 
County  wanted  to  have  passed  a  bill  providing 
for  the  purification  of  the  Passaic  River;  of  course, 
an  Essex  assemblyman  was  for  that.  But  you 
have  to  have  votes  to  pass  bills,  and  Colby's  two 
bills  lacked  a  majority.  How  could  some  more 
votes  be  got  for  them  .?     Colby  and  some  others 


54  UPBUILDERS 

of  his  delegation  went  to  the  Democratic  assem- 
blymen from  Hudson.  Would  they  help  ?  They 
would  —  if  Colby  and  his  crowd  would  withdraw 
his  excise  bills.  Colby  would  see.  He  saw  the 
Governor.  The  Governor  saw  Dickinson,  and 
Dickinson  consented  to  the  dropping  of  the  excise 
bills.  A  bargain  was  struck;  Colby's  and  Essex 
County's  bills  were  passed  with  the  help  of 
Democratic  votes.  And  then  Dickinson  asked 
Colby  to  reintroduce  his  excise  bills. 

The  young  legislator  was  astonished.  He  had 
given  his  word,  and  he  wouldn't  break  it.  Dick- 
inson had  somebody  else  to  do  it,  and  when  Colby 
threatened  to  fight,  a  caucus  was  called  to  bind 
him  to  it  as  a  "party  measure."  Colby,  appealed 
to  the  Governo-r,  and  the  Governor  spoke  to  Dick- 
inson, but  in  vain.  The  caucus  was  held.  Colby 
protested  that  the  party  was  bound  by  his  bargain; 
not  he  alone,  but  the  accredited  Republican 
leaders  had  given  their  word  to  the  Democrats. 

"Your  word  to  a  Democrat  doesn't  mean  any- 
thing," they  told  him  in  those  very  terms.  His 
did,  he  answered.  There  was  a  scene,  and  amid 
cries  of  "Down  with  the  traitor;  up  with  the  flag," 
Colby  bolted  the  caucus.  The  party  jammed 
through  the  excise  bills,  but  Colby  voted  against 
them.  He  didn't  see  the  iniquitous  part  the 
caucus  plays  in  the  perversion  of  representative 


EVERETT  COLBY  55 

government;  he  saw  only  his  own  honour,  but  that 
was  enough  for  a  gentleman.  Wherefore  the 
word  of  the  gentleman  from  Essex  is  good  with 
both  parties  in  Jersey  politics. 

The  boy  disappointed  his  own  boss,  too,  in 
that  first  year.  George  L.  Record,  the  man  behind 
Mayor  Pagan,  of  Jersey  City,  was  in  Trenton 
with  a  primary  election  bill.  This  piece  of  legis- 
lation was  to  play  a  decisive  part  in  a  crisis  of 
young  Colby's  career,  but  Colby  didn't  know 
that,  of  course.  He  was  for  it,  as  Edward  C. 
Stokes  was,  because  his  instincts  were  right. 
Stokes,  though  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  man 
at  Trenton,  took  charge  of  the  bill  and  to  him, 
next  to  Record,  belongs  the  credit  for  its  enact- 
ment. Some  of  the  other  ring  men  saw  the  dan- 
ger to  the  System  that  lurked  in  the  measure; 
Lentz  especially  was  aroused;  he  couldn't  make 
Stokes  see  it,  but  he  ordered  his  own  delegation 
to  fight  it.  And  to  his  young  protege  he  gave 
his  orders  personally. 

"Colby,"  he  said,  "you're  going  to  vote  against 
that  bill." 

"No,  Major,"  said  Colby.  "It's  a  good  bill, 
and  I  shall  vote  for  it." 

The  Major  repeated  his  command,  but  the 
young  assemblyman  laid  down  the  limitation  of 
his  subserviency. 


56  UPBUILDERS 

"Major,"  he  said,  "you  must  not  interfere 
with  me  on  any  but  political  bills." 

As  if  a  primary  bill  wasn't  political!  Bosses 
have  their  troubles;  it  takes  time  and  patience  to 
knock  all  the  decency  —  or,  as  they  would  put  it, 
all  the  poppycock  out  of  a  promising  young  man. 
Lentz  had  to  stand  by  and  see  Colby  vote  for  the 
primary  bill,  and  that  bill  became  a  law.  But 
the  honest  young  legislator,  troublesome  as  he  was, 
had  his  uses.  For  example,  they  won  him  easily 
to  the  support  of  a  bill  to  require  the  consent  of 
20  per  cent,  of  the  stock  of  a  Jersey  corporation 
to  bring  a  stockholder's  suit.  "It  was  an  awful 
bill,"  he  says  now.  "It  was  introduced  in  the 
interest  of  the  United  States  Steel  Company, 
and  I  knew  that.  But  I  was  told  what  a  great 
business  this  was,  the  steel  trust,  and  how  *  strike 
suits'  were  being  brought  against  it.  Strike  suits 
were  bad  but  that  bill  was  worse.  It  was  so  bad, 
indeed,  that  even  I  saw  my  mistake  before  the 
session  was  over."  It  was  so  bad  they  couldn't 
raise  a  majority  for  it,  and  it  was  killed  that  year. 

By  the  close  of  the  session,  young  Mr.  Colby 
had  few  friends  among  the  leaders  in  his  own 
party;  they  wouldn't  speak  to  him,  and  one  might 
have  supposed  that  his  political  career  was  over. 
But  this  was  all  part  of  the  game.  Since  the  young 
man  was  rich,  they  couldn't  buy  him  with  money, 


EVERETT  COLBY  57 

so  they  were  applying  a  little  discipline  "just 
to  show  him."  If  they  could  keep  him  under 
for  a  while,  they  would  get  him  by  and  by  through 
his  ambition;  he  should  have  an  office  and  honours. 
And  as  a  foretaste  of  what  was  in  store  for  him, 
in  the  next  session  the  Honourable  Everett  Colby 
was  made  floor  leader  of  the  Republican  major- 
ity in  the  House. 

This  was  taking  a  big  chance  on  the  boy.  This 
was  making  him  responsible  for  all  the  dirty 
party  work  of  the  system,  but  they  counted  on 
"pride'*  and  his  "sporting  blood"  to  see  him 
through  with  it.  And  they  handled  him  very 
carefully.  They  didn't  tell  him  everything,  and 
they  didn't  give  him  his  orders  harshly.  They 
approached  him  through  men  he  liked. 

For  instance,  early  in  this  session  (1904)  Percy 
Rockefeller  came  to  Colby  with  the  United  States 
Steel's  same  old  "20  per  cent,  consent"  bill  which 
had  failed  in  disgrace  the  year  before.  We  mustn't 
blame  Percy  Rockefeller;  he  seems  not  to  have 
known  what  the  bill  meant.  Indeed,  the  shocking 
thought  is  that  he  was  innocent,  and  that  some  of 
his  elders  in  Wall  Street  had  got  this  boy  to  go  to 
his  boy  friend,  Everett,  to  ask  him  to  introduce 
this  bill  which  was  so  bad  that  even  Francis  Lynde 
Stetson,  the  great  corporation's  greatest  counsel, 
told  Colby  afterward  that    he    did  right  to  keep 


58  UPBUILDERS 

clear  of  it.  The  System  will  sacrifice  its  own 
children  to  have  its  dirty  work  done!  Everett 
Colby,  fortunately,  was  "wise"  enough  to  the 
purposes  of  the  bill  to  explain  them  to  Percy 
Rockefeller,  and  he  sent  his  chum  back  to  those 
who  had  sent  him  with  the  message  that  not  only 
would  he  not  father  the  thing,  he  would  do  his 
best  to  kill  it  if  anybody  else  introduced  it.  And 
somebody  else  did  introduce  it,  and  when  Colby, 
the  leader,  opposed  it,  the  System  sent  its  other 
messengers  to  him,  not  boys  this  time.  No. 
Governor  Murphy  and  ex-Senator  (now  Gov- 
ernor) Stokes,  "the  Penn's  man."  The  Gov- 
ernor called  Colby  a  "Puritan"  for  his  scruples; 
he  said  the  great  corporations  threatened  to  leave 
the  state  unless  they  were  "treated  fairly."  And 
Stokes,  backing  up  the  Governor,  said  he,  Stokes, 
would  be  willing  to  go  on  the  stump  and  advocate 
a  50  per  cent,  law! 

This  opened  a  little  the  eyes  of  the  young  legis- 
lator. He  didn't  see  the  System  yet,  but  he  was 
learning  to.  These  were  the  leading  men  of  his 
state  and  of  his  party,  and  the  young  assembly- 
man had  great  respect  for  them. 

"  But,"  he  says,  "  I  saw  then  that  they  all  were 
corporation  men,  and  that  they  represented  in 
politics  the  interests  of  corporations." 

Seeing  this,  he  opposed  and  he  helped  to  beat 


EVERETT  COLBY  59 

that  particular  bill,  but  he  said  nothing.  "What 
could  a  fellow  say  ?"  He  went  on,  and  his  edu- 
cation went  on. 

This  was  the  session  when  the  present  issues 
of  New  Jersey  politics  were  raised  in  their  present 
form.  Mark  Pagan,  the  Mayor  of  Jersey  City, 
raised  them.  The  Christian  Mayor  went  to  Tren- 
ton with  his  corporation  counsel,  George  L. 
Record,  to  ask  in  the  name  of  his  people  for  relief 
from  the  unendurable  burden  thrown  upon  them 
by  the  railroads.  The  railroads,  with  all  the 
best  (terminal,  water-front)  property  in  the  city, 
paid  practically  no  taxes  to  the  city,  only  to  the 
state,  and  then,  on  a  valuation  fixed  by  their  own 
state  board,  at  rates  lower  than  the  rates  on  other 
property.  Record  had  drawn  a  bill  to  tax  rail- 
road property  locally  and  at  local  rates.  They 
were  Republicans,  Fagan  and  Record,  and  their 
party  was  in  control  of  the  state,  absolutely; 
so  they  applied  to  the  leaders  of  their  party, 
among  them,  of  course,  to  the  Honourable  Everett 
Colby.  He  liked  Mayor  Fagan,  he  says;  he  didn't 
like  Record,  but  Mark  Fagan,  the  "  man  of  the 
people,"  intent  only  upon  the  needs  of  his  city, 
walked  straight  into  the  heart  of  the  rich  young 
gentleman  who,  so  far  as  he  knew,  was  bent  only 
upon  a  political  career  for  personal  glory.  ^T 
liked  that  man/'  he  says,  "and  the  condition  of 


6o  UPBUILDERS 

Jersey  City  appealed  to  me.  I  wanted  to  help 
them,  and  I  couldn't;  at  least,  I  didn't." 

"  Why  V  he  said,  repeating  my  question  thought- 
fully. Then  he  looked  me  straight  in  the  eye. 
"I  don't  know  that  I  can  tell  you,  exactly.  I 
will  try  to  explain,  if  you  will  understand  that 
I'm  not  apologizing  for  myself.  There  was  no 
more  excuse  for  what  I  did  in  this  matter  than 
there  was  for  other  things  I  did  and  —  didn't  do. 
The  bill  was  bad;  it  was  crudely  drawn." 

"Record  admits  that,"  I  interjected.  "Record 
says  that  at  that  time  he  had  never  heard  of  the 
main  stem,  and  had  no  right  understanding  of 
the  situation  at  all." 

"Nor  had  I,"  said  Colby.  "But  that  doesn't 
let  me  out.  It  served  me  as  an  excuse  at  the  time. 
The  big  leaders,  seeing  my  bent  toward  the  bill, 
told  me  it  was  badly  drawn,  and  I  grasped  at  this 
reason  as  at  a  straw.  But  why  shouldn't  I,  the 
House  Leader,  have  amended  that  bill .?  The 
need  of  the  legislation  was  plain.  Why  didn't 
I  fix  the  bill?  I  couldn't.  You  understand? 
I,  a  law  maker,  hadn't  the  ability  to  draw  a  good 
bill.  Why,  then,  didn't  I  have  some  other,  older 
legislator  make  the  bad  bill  good  ?  There  wasn't 
a  man  in  that  House  who  could  have  drawn  a 
sound  tax  bill  to  meet  the  most  notorious  need 
of  the   state.     We   were   incompetent.     Perhjips 


EVERETT  COLBY  6i 

some  of  us  might,  once  upon  a  time,  have  been 
legislators;  but  boss  rule  was  so  old  there  that 
we  didn*t,  we  couldn't  think  for  ourselves.  We 
had  lost  the  art  of  independent  thought  and 
work.  We  were  dummies.  We  took  orders, 
we  waited  for  orders,  we  depended  upon  orders. 
Dummy  legislators,  that's  what  we  were. 

"Oh,  I  was  unhappy!  I  saw  all  this,  but  only 
dimly;  I  wouldn't  let  myself  see  it  clearly.  You 
know  how  a  man  joUies  himself  along  with  lies 
to  save  his  face.  The  Democrats  drew  a  better 
bill,  still  not  good,  and  Pagan  and  Record  ac- 
cepted that;  they  had  no  pride  in  their  pet  measure; 
and  they  didn't  care  whether  the  Democrats  or 
the  Republicans  got  the  credit  of  authorship. 
They  wanted  an  income  from  railroad  property 
in  Jersey  City.  But  the  bill  was  buried  in  commit- 
tee and  I,  the  leader,  should  have  got  it  out.  I 
couldn't  have  got  it  out.  And  when  the  Mayor 
came  to  me  and  asked  me  why  I  didn't  have  it 
reported,  I  told  him  the  truth.  *I  can't,'  I 
told  him.  I  wasn't  really  a  leader.  I  was  the 
real  leader's  dummy. 

"You  understand  that  the  crime  was  not  that 
we  wouldn't  pass  the  bill,  but  that  we  wouldn't 
consider  it.  I  was  willing  to  vote  against  it,  if 
there  were  good  reasons.  I  wasn't  against  cor- 
porations.    But  why  couldn't  we  have  the  bill 


62  UPBUILDERS 

out  and  debate  it  ?  That's  what  Mayor  Fagan 
couldn't  understand,  and  that's  what  I  asked  in 
the  caucus.  We  had  orders,  that  was  all;  no 
reasons,  except  the  one  I  remember  they  gave 
me  in  caucus  a  year  later  on  a  similar  bill.  When 
I  asked,  *  Why  not  take  it  out  and  beat  it  in  the  open 
—  if  it's  so  bad?'  they  answered,  in  awed  tones: 
*Why,  the  Penn  would  raise  hell.'  There  was 
the  reason,  the  real  reason." 

There,  too,  was  the  truth  about  Jersey.  When 
the  Mayor  who  represented  the  people  of  the 
second  city  in  the  state  asked  that  legislature 
to  consider  a  bill  in  their  interest,  that  Jersey 
legislature  couldn't  because  it  represented  "the 
Penn,"  a  foreign  corporation.  "The  Penn" 
ruled  that  state,  and  the  ruler  would  "raise  hell." 

Colby  didn't  see  this.  "I  didn't  want  to  see 
It,"  he  says.  But  Mark  Fagan  saw  it,  and  he 
made  Everett  Colby  see  it;  made  him  grasp  with 
his  mind  what  his  eyes  reflected.  Mark,  the 
gentle  Mayor,  raised  hell.  Defeated,  with  eyes 
wide  open  and  ears  alert,  he  took  in  the  truth. 
The  thing  for  a  "practical  politician"  to  do  was  to 
"take  his  medicine,"  and  go  home  and  tell  his 
people  the  lies  he  heard  told  to  the  public.  But 
Mark  Fagan  had  made  promises,  not  only  on  the 
stump;  he  had  gone  about  from  house  to  house 
and  had  made  his  promises  man  to  man,  and  for 


EVERETT  COLBY  63 

keeps.  He  couldn't  go  back  home  to  his  people 
with  lies.  He  put  the  truth  to  Governor  Murphy 
in  an  open  letter,  and  this  letter  was  read  aloud 
to  the  House  of  Assembly.  It  was  a  silent  House; 
the  representatives  had  read  in  their  newspapers 
what  this  meek  Mayor,  a  Republican  himself, 
had  written  to  the  Republican  Governor  about 
their  party  and  themselves.  But  they  listened 
again.  Colby  says  that  he  sat  low  sunk  in  his 
seat,  and  each  separate  sentence,  as  the  Demo- 
cratic leader  read  it,  fell  like  a  whip  upon  him. 
The  letter  said  that  the  writer  spoke  "as  Mayor 
of  Jersey  City,  and  also  as  a  member  of  the 
Republican  party.  .  .  .  The  present  ses- 
sion is  drawing  to  a  close,"  he  said.  "Its  record 
is  .  .  .  disgraceful.  Its  control  by  corpora- 
tion interests,  in  the  assembly,  at  least,  has  been 
absolute.'*  And  those  men  knew  this  was  true. 
"For  that  condition  the  Republican  party  is 
responsible."  Everett  Colby,  leader,  knew  this 
was  true.  And  as  the  letter  took  up  the  legisla- 
tion, bill  by  bill,  to  show  how  everyone  that  was 
against  a  corporation  failed,  the  party  leader 
of  the  House  could  recall  the  orders  he  had  got 
to  make  them  fail.  He  heard  Governor  Murphy's 
comforting  arguments  and  the  bosses'  tactful 
orders.  He  saw  again  Major  Lentz  watching  in 
the   lobby.     What   did   it   mean  ?     Pagan   asked 


64  UPBUILDERS 

that  in  his  letter  to  Governor  Murphy.  "What 
is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? "  And  the  letter  gave 
the  answer,  and  it  is  the  answer  we  all  must  hear 
as  those  legislators  heard  it,  writhing.  "The 
answer  is  plain !  A  Republican  legislature  is  con- 
trolled by  the  railroad,  trolley,  and  water  corpora- 
tions." «  So  this  honest  Republican  Mayor  wrote; 
but  he  didn't  stop  there.  "And  the  interests  of 
the  people  are  being  betrayed." 

After  the  reading,  silence  hung  on  that  assembly. 
"I  sat  where  I  was,"  says  Colby,  "stunned. 
It  was  my  duty  to  reply.  I  was  the  leader.  The 
others  were  waiting  for  me.  And  I  ?  I  couldn't 
say  a  word.  It  was  all  true,  every  bit  of  it. 
Nobody  moved  for  a  dreadful  space  of  time. 
Then  Tom  Hillory  got  up,  and  he  defended  us, 
all  of  us.  I  felt  mean.  I  was  sore,  sore  at  my- 
self, you  understand;  not  at  the  Governor,  not  at 
the  Penn;  not  at  anybody  else.  I  was  sore  at 
myself.  It  was  true.  We  were  dummies;  we 
betrayed  the  people  who  elected  us." 

"Do  legislators  commonly  understand  that?" 
I  asked. 

"They  must.  I  don't  know.  They  must  and 
yet,  how  can  they .?  It  isn't  easy  to  explain. 
A  fellow  is  moved  by  a  lot  of  mixed-up  considera- 
tions. Take  my  case.  I  saw  it  as  Mark  Fagan 
described  it.     I  had  more  facts  than  he  had,  knew 


EVERETT  COLBY  65 

It  better  than  he,  but  I  didn't  go  right  out  and 
fight.  Neither  did  he.  Why  didn't  we  .?*  We 
both  supported  the  Republican  party  that  fall, 
and  the  party  was  not  changed.  The  truth, 
falling  like  that,  didn't  kill;  it  didn't  even  change 
things  essentially." 

The  Governor  appointed  a  commission  to 
investigate  taxes,  and  the  platform  promised 
some  reform,  if  reform  should  prove  necessary. 
But  the  Republican  nominee  for  Governor  was 
"the  Penn's  man,"  Edward  C.  Stokes.  And 
Colby  and  Fagan  supported  the  ticket;  they  were 
"loyal  to  the  party"  which  one  said  and  the  other 
admitted  "represented  corporations"  and  "be- 
trayed the  people."  Why  did  they  do  it  ?  Why 
do  men  like  John  C.  Spooner  and  Edward  C. 
Stokes  "go  along"?  They  know,  and  their 
friends  say,  they  grieve  themselves  sick.  Why 
did  Mayor  Weaver  "go  along"  so  long  in  Phila- 
delphia ?  Everett  Colby  says  he  had  excuses 
for  the  world,  and  some  for  himself.  "The  com- 
mission was  to  investigate  and  report,"  and  he, 
meanwhile,  threw  himself  into  a  study  of  taxa- 
tion. He  broke  away,  finally;  like  Mayor  Weaver 
and  Mark  Fagan,  he  made  a  stand  in  the  end. 
And  why  did  he  do  that  ?  And  why  did  Mayor 
Weaver  and  Mark  Fagan  do  it  ? 

The  way  Everett  Colby  will  try,  when  you  ask 


66  UPBUILDERS 

him,  to  lay  bare  his  motives  is  one  of  the  convinc- 
ing traits  of  the  man.  He  is  instinctively  honest, 
and  his  candour  is  obvious. 

"You'll  hear,"  he  told  me,  "that  I  wanted  to 
be  Speaker,  and  that  my  defeat  made  me  turn. 
There  is  something  in  that.  I  think  you  under- 
stand that  I  don't  want  to  think  that  that  was 
all,  and,  as  I  recall  it,  I  don't  think  it  was  decisive, 
nor  just  that  alone.  That  was  only  one  of  a  score 
of  things  that  made  me  see  —  and  drove  me  to  act. 
I  simply  don't  know  the  exact  weight  of  any  one 
thing." 

All  he  knows  is,  that  from  seeing  things  sepa- 
rately, with  his  eyes,  he  came  to  see  them  all 
together  with  his  mind.  His  friends  put  into 
his  head  the  idea  of  the  Speakership  in  the  next 
session  (1905).  "I  didn't  care  much,"  he  said. 
"  I  felt  I  hadn't  done  very  well,  and  I  was  willing 
to  wait."  But  he  wrote  to  his  colleagues,  and 
enough  of  "the  boys"  promised  him  their  sup- 
port to  elect  him.  When  Major  Lentz  got  wind 
of  it,  he  told  Colby  he  couldn't  have  the  Speaker- 
ship. This  was  the  System  at  work;  the  House 
leader  hadn't  "made  good";  he  was  not  yet 
"safe";  but  that  isn't  what  the  boss  said.  Lentz 
said  Colby  mustn't  run  because  he  couldn't  be 
elected.  With  those  letters  in  his  pocket,  Colby 
knew  it  wasn't  his  colleagues  that  would  make 


EVERETT  COLBY  67 

it  impossible  to  elect  him.  He  didn't  mention 
to  Lentz  how  many  pledges  he  had;  but  neither 
did  he  bow  to  the  boss  as  bosses  like  to  be 
bowed  to. 

Now  political  bosses  are  not  really  bosses; 
they  are  the  agents  of  the  real  bosses,  who  are 
business  men,  and  when  Colby  got  a  telephone 
message  to  come  to  the  Newark  office  of  U.  S. 
Senator  Dryden,  the  young  man,  his  eyes  wide  open 
now,  realized  that  he  was  to  see  one  of  the  men 
who  represented  one  of  the  sovereign  interests  of 
his  state.  Senator  Dryden,  the  president  of  the 
Prudential  Life,  was  there,  and  with  him  was 
Lentz.  The  United  States  Senator  was  the 
financial  head  of  the  Public  Service  Corporation 
in  New  Jersey;  not  the  president;  Thomas  C. 
McCarter  is  that.  Dryden  is  the  man  back  of 
McCarter  as  he  is  the  man  back  of  Lentz;  and  that 
is  why  he  was  a  United  States  Senator;  he  repre- 
sented one  of  the  two  great  sources  of  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  state.  He  told  Mr.  Colby  that  he 
couldn't  be  Speaker.  Dryden  is  a  pleasant- 
spoken  man,  and  he  appealed  to  "his  young 
friend's"  good  feeling,  explaining  that  since  he 
couldn't  get  the  votes,  it  would  weaken  the  pres- 
tige of  their  (Essex)  delegation  to  run  and  fail. 
But  Colby  said  he  could  get  the  votes.  How  did 
he  know  he  could  ?     He  knew  it  because  he  had 


68  UPBUILDERS 

them  in  his  pocket;  and  he  tapped  those  letters. 
This  was  unexpected,  and  the  Senator  exclaimed: 

"But  Tom  McCarter  says  it  won't  do." 

That  settled  it.  Tom  McCarter  spoke  for 
the  trolley  business. 

Colby  consented  not  to  run;  he  told  them  it 
was  all  right.  "  But,"  he  said, "  I  could  be  elected  if 
I  could  have  the  support  of  my  county." 

Major  Lentz  approved,  as  they  went  away, 
the  obedience  of  his  young  protege,  "That's 
the  way  to  talk,"  he  said.  Colby  was  "mad"; 
he  hated  the  fraud  of  it  all.  "Why  didn't  they 
give  their  real  reasons  ?  Why  didn't  they  say 
they  feared  that  as  Speaker  I  might  not  repre- 
sent their  trolleys  ?" 

The  next  session  was  to  be  crucial.  Colby 
made  up  his  mind  to  be  a  free  lance.  The  Speaker- 
ship denied  him,  he  would  decline  the  leadership 
also.  Without  knowing  what  he  meant  to  do, 
he  was  going  to  be  free  to  act  as  he  might  find  it 
right  to  act. 

If  Colby  had  begun  his  career  at  the  bottom, 
in  local  politics,  he  would  have  known  of  two  or 
three  separate  reform  movements  that  had  long 
been  going  on  in  his  county,  and  he  could  have 
gone  to  these,  combined  and  led  them  against  the 
machine.  He  does  lead  them  now,  but  he  didn't 
go  to  them;  they  came  to  him.     One  of  these 


EVERETT  COLBY  69 

movements  was  in  Newark,  the  metropolis  of  the 
state.  This  city  belonged  absolutely  to  the  busi- 
ness interests  grouped  about  the  Prudential  Life, 
the  Fidelity  Trust  Company,  and  the  Public  Ser- 
vice Corporation,  which,  ruling  through  Major 
Lentz,  gave  the  city  a  government  in  which  these 
special  interests  came  first,  the  common  interest 
of  the  city  last.  The  Democratic  machine  stood 
in  with  the  Republican  ring.  Now  and  then, 
when  James  Smith,  Jr.,  the  Democratic  business 
boss,  had  business  differences  with  the  Republican 
business  grafters,  there  was  a  political  fight.  But 
all  the  opposition  that  counted  at  all  came  from 
a  few  young  men,  with  William  P.  Martin  at  their 
head,  who,  mostly  Republicans,  got  into  councils 
and  opposed  steadfastly  the  public  utility  grabs. 
Their  story  is  a  story  by  itself,  and  a  good  one; 
suffice  it  for  the  present  to  say  these  fellows  were 
battling  against  the  enemies  of  their  city,  the 
public  service  interest,  all  the  while  Colby  was  try- 
ing to  get  along  with  his  party. 

Several  other  movements  were  under  way  in 
the  suburbs  of  Newark  —  Bloomfield,  the  Oranges, 
etc.  These  were  "good-government,"  "good- 
men-for-ofiice "  reforms  till  Tom  McCarter 
aroused  these  "communities"  to  opposition  to  the 
real  cause  of  all  their  troubles.  Tom  McCarter 
is  a  fiery,  red-headed  politician,  who,  as  president 


70  UPBUILDERS 

of  the  Public  Service,  believes  honestly  that  any- 
thing that  helps  business  is  right.  He  was  extend- 
ing his  trolley  system,  and,  desiring  to  go  through 
parks  and  residence  streets,  needed  franchises. 
Of  course,  he  must  have  them,  and  of  course  he 
must  have  them  for  nothing,  and  forever.  Fred- 
erick W.  Kelsey,  a  park  commissioner,  opposed 
him  till  public  sentiment  was  formed  and  then 
McCarter  undertook,  by  the  methods  character- 
istic of  privilege-seekers,  to  get  what  he  wanted 
anyhow.  There  were  scandal  and  mass-meet- 
ings. The  New  England  Society  took  up  Kel- 
sey's  old  fight  against  business  graft.  Could  the 
fight  have  gone  on  locally,  with  McCarter's  fran- 
chises for  issues,  it  might  have  developed  good 
citizenship  in  the  Oranges.  But  both  sides 
appealed  to  the  state. 

Tom  McCarter,  finding  that  the  local  council, 
though  corrupt  enough  and  willing,  lacked  the 
nerve  to  vote  for  him  what  he  wanted  in  the  face 
of  "mobs'*  of  good  citizens,  decided  to  appeal 
to  the  legislature;  and  his  plan  was  to  create  a 
Greater  Newark,  taking  into  the  city  which  he 
could  control  the  suburbs  which  were  giving  the 
trolley  "so  much  trouble."  And  the  men  of 
Orange,  finding  that  their  representatives  in  the 
local  council  did  not  represent  them  (except 
when  watched),  determined  not  to  reform  them- 


EVERETT  COLBY  71 

selves  and  their  voters  and  their  council,  but  to 
go  also  to  the  legislature.  Their  petition  was  a 
very  modest  one;  they  wanted  "their"  state  to 
forbid  "their"  council  to  grant  any  franchise  for 
a  period  longer  than  twenty-five  years. 

The  average  Jerseyman  thinks  his  state  is  well 
governed.  His  local  government  is  bad,  but  poli- 
ticians run  that  and  he  sees  the  results  with  his 
own  eyes.  The  state  is  a  government  by  law- 
yers, whom  he  knows  by  reputation  at  least;  these 
lawyers  are  counsel  for  business  men,  like  Sena- 
tors Dryden  and  Kean,  ex-Governor  Murphy, 
and  Tom  McCarter  —  the  kind  of  men  he  knows 
as  good  business  men,  and  they  tell  him  the  state 
is  all  right.  When  the  good  men  of  Orange, 
finding  that  Tom  McCarter  was  back  of  the  poli- 
ticians who  misrepresented  Orange,  set  about  get- 
ting their  good  state  government  to  check  Tom's 
chicaneries  in  Orange,  the  average  Jerseyman 
learned  why  Senator  Dryden  and  Governor  Mur- 
phy and  Tom  McCarter  called  the  state  govern- 
ment "all  right."  The  state  government  also 
represented  "business,"  and  it  did  not  represent 
the  average  citizen  of  Jersey. 

The  men  of  Orange  had  to  approach  the  state 
legislature  through  members  of  that  body,  and, 
naturally,  they  applied  to  their  own  Essex  County 
legislators.     What  was  their  surprise  to  find  that 


72  UPBUILDERS 

their  own  representatives  wouldn't,  nay  couldn't, 
represent  them !  One  by  one  they  sounded  them 
only  to  see  that  no  representative  of  theirs  dared 
touch  their  bill.     Why  ? 

Everett  Colby  was  learning  why.  The  men  of 
Orange  decided  to  ask  him  to  take  up  their  bill, 
and  the  Newark  fighters  were  to  support  them. 
Would  Colby  do  it  ?  He  didn't  know.  Before 
his  fellow-citizens  asked  him,  he  heard  of  their 
intentions  and  he  wasn't  sure  what  he  should  do. 
He  was  aware  of  the  feeling  between  the  corpora- 
tions and  the  people,  not  only  in  Orange  but 
everywhere,  and  his  disposition  was  not  to  take 
a  side,  but  to  listen  to  both,  study  the  subject, 
and  do  the  fair  thing. 

One  evening  ex-Governor  Murphy  gave  a  din- 
ner. "Everybody"  was  there;  all  the  business 
and  political  leaders  and  others,  quite  a  crowd. 
When  they  rose  from  the  table  Colby  went  up  to 
Tom  McCarter  to  get  the  trolley  side  of  the  fran- 
chise question.  He  heard,  he  said,  that  the 
New  England  Society  of  Orange  had  a  limited 
franchise  bill  to  oflFer  to  the  legislature,  and  wouldn't 
McCarter  like  to  talk  it  over  with  him  (Colby)  t 

"Now,  you  know,"  said  Colby  to  me,  "they 
could  have  fooled  me  easily.  If  they  had  had  any 
tact,  and  had  given  me  any  reasonable  argument, 
I   think,   in   my   ignorance,   I   would   have   been 


EVERETT  COLBY  73 

taken  in.  But,  no;  they  ruled  and  they  ruled, 
not  by  reason,  but  by  command." 

Tom  McCarter  did  not  want  to  talk  it  over 
with  Colby.  Irascible  and  dictatorial,  the  trolley 
boss  bent  his  head  forward  at  the  young  legis- 
lator, and,  slapping  his  hands  insultingly  in  his 
face,  he  said  that  anything  but  perpetual  fran- 
chises in  Jersey  was  "talk,"  "child's  play";  and, 
raising  his  voice  so  that  all  in  the  room  turned 
to  hear,  he  cried:  "We  wouldn't  touch  any- 
thing else  with  a  ten-foot  pole!"  With  that  he 
turned  his  back  on  Colby,  and  walked  off. 

"It  wasn't  a  question,"  Mr.  Colby  explained 
to  me,  as  he  recalled  this  scene,  "it  wasn't  a  ques- 
tion of  right  and  wrong  as  between  two  interests; 
it  was,  and  it  is,  a  question  of  who  rules  here." 

Colby  listened  to  his  neighbours.  He  ex- 
plained to  them  how  difficult  it  would  be  for 
them  to  get  any  relief  from  their  legislature,  how 
little  he  could  do;  but  they  were  agreeing  on  plans 
when  McCarter  drove  home  the  lesson  Colby  was 
learning.  This  time  it  was  at  a  luncheon  at 
Trenton.  The  legislature  had  met,  and  again  all 
the  rulers  of  the  state  were  present,  the  rulers 
and  their  dummies,  the  office-holders  and  legis- 
lators. This  time  Tom  McCarter  went  to  Colby; 
that  is  to  say,  the  business  boss  beckoned  the 
assemblyman  to  him. 


74  ^    UPBUILDERS 

"Colby,"  he  said,  "what's  this  I  hear  about 
you  introducing  a  limited  franchise  bill  ? "  He 
didn't  wait  for  an  answer.  Raising  his  voice, 
as  before,  so  that  all  could  hear,  he  laid  down  the 
law  of  the  land  for  legislators.  "You  introduce 
that  bill,"  he  bawled  in  his  mad  rage,  "  and  you'll 
lose  every  friend  you  have  in  Essex  County." 

What  did  Tom  McCarter  mean  ?  His  brother 
made  that  clearer.  The  financial  rings  that  rule 
Jersey  often  have  to  smooth  over  the  troubles 
their  quick-tempered  trolley  president  causes  with 
his  "honest  grafter"  blunders.  Uzel  McCarter, 
Tom's  big  brother,  and  the  head  of  the  trust  com- 
pany through  which  (like  the  Big  Three)  the 
Prudential  Life  Insurance  crowd  finances  its 
trolley  and  other  schemes  —  Uzel,  a  diplomat, 
joined  Colby  that  day  on  a  train.  He  talked 
pleasantly,  even  flatteringly,  to  the  young  man. 
By  and  by  the  franchise  subject  happened  to 
come  up,  and  that  led,  naturally,  to  Colby's  con- 
nection with  the  bill  to  limit  trolley  grants.  Most 
unfortunate  connection,  that. 

"We,"  said  the  banker,  "we  think  you  have  a 
political  future  before  you,  and  we  don't  want 
to  see  you  throw  it  away." 

There  was  more,  but  that  was  the  point.  Uzel 
McCarter  was  taking  the  young  man  who  couldn't 
be   bribed   with    money,   or   browbeaten   by   the 


EVERETT  COLBY  75 

bosses,  up  on  the  mountain  to  see  the  cities  of   the 
earth,  and  the  young  man  understood  it. 

"  It  was  a  promise,"  says  Colby,  "  and  —  a 
threat." 

Undaunted,  uncorrupted,  the  young  man  came 
down  from  the  mountain  to  a  study  of  the  situa- 
tion. He  knew  a  limited  franchise  bill  could 
not  be  passed,  so  he  hit  upon  the  idea  of  intro- 
ducing a  resolution  to  put  the  legislature  on  record. 
He  drew  one.  He  spoke  of  it  to  no  one  except 
Edward  Duffield,  the  House  leader,  to  whom 
Colby,  as  an  ex-leader,  owed  that  courtesy. 
Just  before  he  rose  he  turned  to  Duffield  and  said : 

"Now,  Ed,  don't  be  surprised,  but  watch.  And 
look  out  that  you  don't  make  the  mistake  of 
your  life." 

And  Colby  offered  a  resolution  to  the  effect 
that  it  was  the  sense  of  this  House  that  perpetual 
grants  of  monopolies  to  corporations  should  not 
be  made.  Everybody  looked  to  the  leader.  He 
sat  still.  The  Speaker  hesitated,  then,  with  all 
eyes  on  the  mute  leader,  he  put  the  motion. 
Colby  says,  and  I've  heard  men  in  other  states 
who  know  legislatures  well  say,  that  if  a  body 
of  elected  Americans  are  not  interfered  with  by 
business  corruption  they  will  do  right  nearly 
every  time.  That  House  that  night,  having  no 
orders  from  the  System  and  getting  no  sign  from 


76  UPBUILDERS 

"Ed,"  adopted  that  resolution  with  not  one 
negative  vote! 

But  before  the  Speaker  declared  the  resolution 
carried,  the  lobby  woke  up.  Governor  Stokes's 
Pennsylvania  man  came  rushing  in  out  of  breath; 
wanted  to  know  what  the thing  meant  any- 
how. "Can't  you  give  us  time  ?"  he  begged. 
Colby  knew  that  A.  J.  Cassatt  would  call  down 
Stokes  and  that  Stokes  would  call  down  his 
man,  and  that  the  Public  Service  lobbyist 
and  legislators  would  catch  it;  and  besides,  he 
didn't  want  to  join  in  a  fluke,  so  he  said:  "Surely; 
we'll  make  it  a  special  order  for  Thursday." 

The  next  day  a  telephone  message  summoned 
him  to  one  of  the  business-political  leaders  of  the 
state,  a  man  who  usually  had  been  able  to 
"handle  Colby." 

"Everett,"  said  this  man,  "our  friends  are 
awfully  upset  by  this  resolution  of  yours."  Of 
course,  he  said,  it  had  gone  too  far  to  be  absolutely 
withdrawn  —  by  Colby,  but  "our  friends  will 
fix  up  an  amendment,"  and  "if  you  will  accept 
this  amendment,  they'll  let  it  pass."  "TheyW 
let  it  pass!" 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,"  Colby  exclaimed, 
"that  they  are  to  determine  what  bills  shall  pass!" 

"Now,  Everett,"  said  this  gentleman, "you  ought 
to  know  by  this  time  how  all  these  things  are," 


EVERETT  COLBY  77 

The  amendments  were  absurd,  ridiculous,  im- 
possible. Colby  refused  to  accept  them,  and  he 
meanwhile  had  been  busy  seeing  his  colleagues. 
The  Speaker  and  four-fifths  of  the  members  were 
for  the  resolution.  Yet,  when  it  came  up  again 
on  Thursday,  only  ten  men  voted  "yes  " ! 

This  was  only  a  preliminary  skirmish  in  the 
long  fight  of  that  session  of  1905.  It  was  a  defeat, 
but  it  was  better  than  a  victory  since  it  aroused 
public  interest  and  attracted  to  Trenton  citizens 
and  committees  of  citizens  to  take  object  lessons 
in  a  "good  business  government'*  in  action.  The 
Orange  men  —  on  hand  in  force  —  insisted  upon 
having  their  limited  franchises  bill  introduced, 
and  Colby  presented  it.  It  went  to  committee 
for  burial,  but  there  were  hearings  on  it,  and 
Colby  says  the  sight  of  citizens  delivering  carefully 
prepared  arguments  to  a  committee  of  legislators 
whom  he  knew  to  be  dummies  with  no  will  of 
their  own,  no  minds  of  their  own,  no  ears  for  any- 
thing but  the  orders  which  they  already  had 
received  to  "hang  onto  that  bill"  —  this  spectacle, 
common  as  it  was,  and  typical  of  all  our  legis- 
latures from  the  youngest  state  to  Congress  itself, 
the  humiliation  of  it  struck  deep  into  the  grow- 
ing intelligence  of  the  young  legislator.  And 
evidently  it  made  an  impression  on  Jerseymen; 
the  papers  described  the  scene  mercilessly,  and 


78  UPBUILDERS 

the  rumble  of  popular  indignation  finally  scared  the 
rings.  Major  Lentz  is  said  to  have  told  Governor 
Stokes  that  if  some  bill  wasn't  reported,  "that 
fellow  Colby  would  make  a  lot  of  trouble"  for 
him  (Lentz)  in  Essex.  So  the  Pennsylvania  Rail- 
road threw  over  the  Public  Service  Corporation. 
Stokes  gave  orders.  A  substitute  bill  was  drawn, 
for  a  commission  to  investigate;  that  was  all,  but 
just  before  final  adjournment  this  old  device  to 
gain  time  was  reported  and  rushed  through.  And, 
even  then,  Tom  McCarter  told  the  Governor  he 
had  no  right  to  let  such  a  thing  happen  when  "our 
great  interests  were  against  it.''  And  Governor 
Stokes  did  not  sign  it  for  weeks;  and  then  he 
appointed  a  commission  typified  by  ex-Governor 
Murphy,  the  chairman. 

A  railroad  tax  bill,  promised  in  the  Republican 
platform,  was  introduced  with  the  permission 
(as  I  happen  to  know)  of  Mr.  Cassatt  of  Phila- 
delphia, but  it  was  in  the  form  prescribed  by 
"the  road."  It  taxed  second-class  property 
(buildings  and  ordinary  real  estate)  at  local  rates, 
but  not  the  "main  stem"  (the  roadbed).  This 
would  relieve  Jersey  City  somewhat,  but  it  would 
not  satisfy  Mayor  Pagan  or  any  other  citizen  who 
believed  in  "equal  taxation." 

And  after  it  was  passed,  another  bill  was  run 
out  and  jammed  through,  prescribing  that  the 


EVERETT  COLBY 


79 


first  bill  should  not  materially  increase  the  total 
tax  of  the  railroads.  This  was  made  "the  Gov- 
ernor's bill,"  but  Colby  opposed  it  and  introduced 
another  to  tax  the  main  stem  like  any  other  real 
estate.  Of  course,  Colby's  bill  was  beaten,  but 
Its  defeat  left  equal  taxation  an  issue  in  Jersey 
politics. 

Another  fight  that  showed  things  as  they  are,"!  Qjy^^ 
was  over  a  bill  to  promote  Tom  McCarter's  scheme  ^^ 

to  bring  into  a  Greater  Newark  all  the  suburbs  ^  ^ 

which  did  not  respond  to  trolley  corruption.  nm*^ 
Bloomfield  was  one  of  these.  The  people  there  xj^^^'"^ 
had  held  the  trolleys  at  bay;  annexation  had  been  O^ 
proposed  to  them,  and  they  had  voted  it  down. 
In  this  session  of  1905  some  "leading  citizens" 
of  Bloomfield  applied  to  the  legislature  for  another 
referendum  on  annexation,  and  the  trolley  pre- 
tended to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  But  it  had. 
Those  leading  citizens  were  stockholders  and 
friends  of  stockholders  in  McCarter's  company; 
Major  Lentz  "steered"  them;  and  for  more 
direct  evidence,  there  was  the  story  of  a  friend  of 
Colby.  This  man  had  been  in  the  employ  of  the 
Public  Service.  He  was  against  the  bill,  and 
"they  sent  for  him."  This  was  their  bill,  they  told 
him.  They  wrote  it,  and  they  needed  it  as  a  step 
in  their  plan  to  absorb  into  Newark  all  the  trouble- 
some   suburbs    about    the    city;    their    employee 


8o  UPBUILDERS 

must  get  out  of  the  way.  Their  employee  told 
them  he  was  out  of  their  employ  and,  being  there- 
fore free,  would  continue  to  fight  them  with  this 
added  information  to  spur  him  on. 

It  was  this  bill  that  finally  brought  about  the 
declaration  of  war  between  Boss  Lentz  and 
Assemblyman  Colby.  One  day,  when  Lentz 
was  steering  his  "citizens'  committee"  about  the 
Capitol,  he  introduced  Colby  to  them.  And  he 
told  Colby  in  their  presence  that  he  must  work 
for  their  bill.  "They  contribute  to  the  campaign 
fund";  that  was  the  reason  he  gave,  and  it  was 
bad  enough,  but  Colby  knew  that  the  real  reason 
was  that  Tom  McCarter  and  Senator  Dryden 
wanted  to  control  through  Newark  the  destinies 
of  Bloomfield  and  the  Oranges  against  the  will 
of  the  inhabitants  of  those  places. 

David  Baird  came  along  as  they  were  talking. 
Baird  is  the  Republican  boss  of  Camden,  and  the 
agent  there  of  "the  Penn"  and  the  Public  Ser- 
vice Corporation. 

"David,"  said  Lentz,  after  introducing  him, 
"I  want  you  to  get  your  boys  in  line  for  that 
bill." 

"All  right,  Major,"  said  David,  "I  will." 

Colby  wasn't  so  agreeable.  He  didn't  say 
much,  but  Lentz  suspected  him  and  his  suspi- 
cions were  promptly  confirmed.    Colby  happened 


EVERETT  COLBY  8i 

to  meet  about  noon  that  day  the  chairman  of 
the  committee  which  had  the  Bloomfield  bill  in 
charge,  and  they  went  together  to  lunch.  When 
they  entered  the  restaurant  there  sat  the  Major 
with  his  citizens.  The  boss  seemed  gradually  to 
work  himself  into  a  rage,  for  after  staring  angrily 
at  Colby  a  few  moments,  he  got  up,  stalked  over, 
and  "putting  his  head  in  between  ours,"  Colby 
says,  "and  spluttering  in  my  face,  he  demanded 
to  know  if  I  was  opposing  him  in  this."  So  far 
as  Colby  can  recall,  he  and  the  chairman  hadn't 
mentioned  the  bill,  but  he  was  opposing  Lentz 
"in  this,"  and  he  said  so. 

"That  settles  it,"  said  the  Major. 

Not  only  "that,"  but  everything  settled  it 
between  Colby  and  his  boss  and  the  bosses  of 
the  boss.  Tom  McCarter  had  said  Colby  would 
lose  every  friend  he  had  in  Essex;  Uzel  had  warned 
him  to  take  heed  for  his  political  future.  "It 
was  fight,"  says  Colby  now.  "I  went  home 
from  that  session  burning  hot  with  indignation. 
But  I  didn't  think  about  my  political  future. 
That  had  sunk  into  a  small  detail  of  a  situation 
which  was  bigger  than  the  political  ambition  of 
any  man.  I  saw  that  the  legislature,  yes,  and  the 
government  in  nearly  all  of  its  branches,  was  ruled 
absolutely  by  our  Jersey  corporations.  And 
despotically,  unscrupulously,  too;  in  the  interest 


82  UPBUILDERS 

of  their  business,  they  were  corrupting  all  of  us. 
Hadn't  they  nearly  corrupted  me?" 

The  question  was  what  to  do.  Colby  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  He  asked  me  what  I  would 
have  done,  and  I  pass  it  on  to  you  who  read  this: 
What  would  you  have  done .?  And  I  ask  the 
question  to  bring  home  to  you  the  quandary  of 
this  young  legislator  and  of  his  friends,  and  of  the 
citizens  of  Orange  and  of  Newark  and  of  Jersey 
who  wanted  to  fight.  Lentz  said  Colby  should 
not  be  renominated  for  the  Assembly,  and  some 
of  his  friends  proposed  a  fight  in  the  party  for  the 
county  committee.  But  Colby  didn't  want  to 
run  for  boss  of  Essex;  he  wanted  to  make  his  appeal 
more  to  the  people.  This  was  an  instinct,  a  demo- 
cratic instinct  which  this  rich  railroad  magnate's 
son  has  well  developed  in  him.  He  proposed  run- 
ning an  older  man  for  senator,  but  the  older  man 
wouldn't  run  and  the  Newark,  Bloomfield,  and 
Orange  men  wanted  Colby  to  lead  their  common 
fight.  He  was  in  doubt.  He  wanted  to  make  the 
fight  impersonal,  and  they  adopted  his  principle 
to  fight  the  boss,  not  Lentz;  not  the  man,  but 
the  boss  as  an  institution,  as  an  agent  of  a  corrupt 
oligarchy.     But  how  ? 

"Then,"  said  Colby,  as  he  told  me  the  story, 
"then  came  Record." 

There's  a  good  deal  of  feeling  against  George 


EVERETT  COLBY  83 

L.  Record  in  Jersey.  He  is  the  man  who  came 
to  Mark  Fagan  when  the  kindly  Mayor  of  Jersey 
City  was  at  the  first  crisis  of  his  administration, 
and  Record  helped  Mark  Fagan.  From  sus- 
pecting him,  Mayor  Mark  came  to  lean  upon  him 
for  his  economic  policy,  and  they  and  their  Jersey 
City  cabinet  have  influenced  Jersey  politics  and 
the  Jersey  legislature  more  and  more  healthfully 
than  any  other  one  force  in  the  state.  Yet,  while 
none  denies  the  perfect  honesty  of  Mark  Fagan, 
many  men  distrust  George  L.  Record.  And  you 
may  recall  that  Colby,  two  years  before,  when 
he  took  to  Fagan,  "disliked"  Record.  But  when 
"Record  came,"  he  told  Colby  just  what  to  do 
and  how  to  do  it.  Colby  is  very  handsome  in  his 
acknowledgment  of  the  service  Record  rendered 
them  in  Essex,  and  his  friends  confess,  though 
more  grudgingly,  that  Record  is  a  man  of  resources. 
But  nobody  can  see  what  Record  gets  out  of  it  for 
Record.  They  think  he  wants  to  go  to  the  United 
States  Senate.  I  hope  he  does;  this  long,  lean, 
thinking  Yankee  from  Jersey  City  might  accom- 
plish something  even  in  the  United  States  Senate. 
But  Record  is  another  story,  and  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter now  "what  Record  is  after." 

When  he  came  to  Colby,  he  came  suggest- 
ing that  since  Colby  had  made  one  good  fight  at 
Trenton,  he  should  make  another;  and  since  he 


84  UPBUILDERS 

personified  all  the  discontent  that  opposed  the  con- 
trol of  the  state  by  the  corrupt  corporation  of  the 
state,  he,  Colby,  was  the  man  to  run  for  Senator. 
How  ?  There  was  the  primary  law.  Record,  the 
father  of  that  law,  suggested  the  use  of  it  to  beat 
the  Republican  boss  in  his  own  party.  "But," 
he  said,  "don't  stop  there.  Adopt  a  platform. 
Promise  specific  things  and  go  to  the  people  with 
these  definite  promises.  And  put  up  a  full  ticket: 
senator  and  assemblymen  and  county  officers  — 
everything." 

Mark  Fagan  has  in  Jersey  City  a  "group  plan" 
of  government.  A  picked  lot  of  fellows  get  to- 
gether, discuss,  and  agree  upon  policies  and  plans. 
Colby  took  that  idea,  and  he  accepted  also  the 
suggestion  to  join  issue  with  fighters  in  other 
counties.  So  two  groups,  one  from  Essex  and  the 
other  from  Hudson,  came  together  and  out  of 
their  deHberations  grew  a  platform  and  what  is 
known  as  "The  New  Idea  Movement." 

They  adopted  Colby's  Orange  issue:  limited 
franchises;  Record's:  franchise  taxation;  Pagan's: 
equal  taxation;  and  Colby,  Record  and  others 
added  one  new  one:  an  expression  at  legisla- 
tive elections  of  a  popular  choice  for  United  States 
Senators. 

It  isn't  necessary  to  follow  the  campaigns,  for 
there  were  two  —  the  first  a  fight  at  the  primaries 


EVERETT  COLBY  85 

for  the  nomination  for  state  senator,  the  second 
the  general  election  at  the  polls.  Both  were  anti- 
boss  fights.  Colby  opened  with  an  announcement 
of  his  candidacy,  backed  by  a  statement  of  his 
programme.  The  boss  and  the  ringsters  laughed. 
They  laughed  till  the  first  mass-meeting  was  held. 
That  was  expected  to  fall  flat,  but  the  opera 
house  was  filled  to  overflowing  and  Fagan,  Record, 
Colby  and  Martin  aroused  the  crowd  to  tremen- 
dous enthusiasm.  But  the  best  thing  Colby  did 
was  to  adopt  Pagan's  method  of  meeting  the 
voters  face  to  face.  Fagan  told  him  how  to 
do  it.  Colby  asked  him.  The  young  club  man 
thought  there  was  some  mystery  about  talking 
to  workingmen,  so  he  invited  Mayor  Mark  to 
luncheon  to  get  his  secret.  The  Mayor  was 
puzzled. 

"Why,  Mr.  Colby,"  he  said,  "I  can't  tell  you 
how  to  do  that.  I  can  tell  you  when  you  will  find 
working-men  at  liberty  to  listen,  and  I  can  tell 
you  how  they  feel  about  some  of  these  great  ques- 
tions. But  I  can't  tell  you  what  to  say  to  them. 
You  must  say  just  what  you  think,  and,  Mr. 
Colby,  if  you  don't  feel  from  the  bottom  of  your 
heart  a  real  interest  in  people  you  might  as  well 
stay  at  home." 

"And  that,"  says  Colby,  "is  about  the  best 
advice  I  ever  got.     The  instant  he  said  it  I  knew 


86  UPBUILDERS 

it  was  right.  After  that  I  went  out  to  my  noon- 
day meetings  and  I  didn't  try  to  find  out  what  they 
thought.  I  told  them  what  I  thought  about  things." 
Colby's  class  suffers  from  class  consciousness, 
as  much,  if  not  more,  than  labour  does.  If  he 
had  gone  forth  as  a  rich  man  to  the  poor,  or  as  a 
capitalist  to  labour,  or  as  a  business  man  offer- 
ing a  good  business  administration  to  a  people 
incompetent  for  self-government,  he  would  have 
had  to  buy  votes  or  be  beaten.  But  going  as  he 
did,  as  a  man  to  men,  and  promising  things  that 
were  directed  at  the  reform,  not  of  politicians 
and  the  police,  and  dirty  streets,  etc.,  etc.,  but  of 
the  grosser  vices  of  his  own  class,  even  though  he 
did  not  mention  class,  those  people  sized  up  "this 
rich  young  club  fellow"  as  they  sized  up  the  ex- 
gilder  and  undertaker,  Mark  Fagan,  and  they 
put  their  faith  in  him  as  the  Missourians  did 
in  Folk,  as  the  people  of  Wisconsin  did  in  La 
Follette,  and  as  the  people  of  San  Francisco  did 
in  Heney.  The  American  people  seem  not  to 
know  the  difference  between  clean  streets  and 
dirty  streets,  but  they  do  know  the  difference  be- 
tween hypocrisy  and  sincerity,  between  pluto- 
cracy and  democracy.  They'll  help  you  beat 
the  boss  if  you'll  show  that  you  see  as  plainly  as 
^.    they  do  who  is  back  of  the  boss. 

The   machine  blundered.     The  bosses   always 


EVERETT  COLBY  87 

blunder  when,  as  they  put  it,  "they  go  up  against 
a  new  game,"  and  the  New  Idea  was  a  new  game. 
Colby  made  use  of  Record's  primary  law  to  print 
his  name,  as  candidate  for  the  senate,  after  the 
names  of  his  delegates.  Lentz  wouldn't  do  that. 
He  wanted  to  elect  his  delegates,  then  dictate  as  of 
old,  all  the  candidates  to  be  nominated  by  the 
convention.  Governor  Stokes  warned  Lentz. 
Colby  thought  he  saw  signs  of  the  Governor's 
interference  against  him,  and  he  went  to  Mr. 
Stokes  to  ask  that  "he  keep  his  hands  off." 

"Why,"  said  the  Governor,  "all  I  have  done 
was  to  tell  Lentz  that  if  he  didn't  name  a  man 
against  you,  you'd  beat  him." 

Colby's  crowd  worked  early  and  late.  As  time 
went  on  and  the  excitement  grew,  men  who  never 
had  taken  part  in  politics  joined  in  what  they 
agreed  was  the  "greatest  game  they  ever  sat  in  at," 
the  great  game  of  politics.  Everybody  was  wel- 
come, and  everybody  was  happy.  It  was  a  popu- 
lar election,  every  man's  election,  and  they  won. 
Won  ?  The  completeness  of  their  victory  at  the 
primaries  astonished  them.  They  carried  every- 
thing. The  next  morning  Major  Lentz  told 
Colby  the  convention  was  his,  Colby's,  and 
Colby  might  "run  it"  to  suit  himself.  Very 
gracious,  indeed,  was  this  defeated  boss,  but  he 
hoped  (and  he  hopes)  to  be  boss  again. 


88  UPBUILDERS 

"IVe  been  thinking/'  he  said  to  the  victor, 
"that  maybe  I  ought  to  resign.  What  do  you 
think,  Colby  ? " 

"  I  think  you  might  as  well,  Major,"  said  Colby, 
who  thought  Lentz  meant  what  he  said.  But 
Lentz  didn't  mean  anything  of  the  kind. 

"Well,  I  won't,"  he  answered  in  a  huff.  "I 
didn't  mean  resign  the  chairmanship  of  the  county 
committee;  I  meant  as  manager  of  the  campaign." 

Colby  said  he  and  his  crowd  nearly  went  to 
pieces  on  this  very  point.  They  held  their  con- 
vention, and  they  nominated  the  whole  legisla- 
tive and  county  ticket.  That  had  all  been  planned 
in  advance.  But  what  next  ?  What  about 
managing  the  campaign  ?  Lentz  had  the  county 
committee,  and  the  county  committee  usually 
ran  county  campaigns.  Colby  and  his  group 
meant  to  have  their  fight  made  by  a  joint  com- 
mittee, but  their  plans  were  indefinite. 

"We  hadn't  thought  it  out,"  Colby  says,  "and 
we  made  a  bad  blunder." 

The  county  committee  was  to  have  a  meeting, 
and  it  was  the  custom  for  candidates  to  go  and 
be  presented.  Colby  left  town  intending  not  to 
recognize  the  committee,  but  he  was  telephoned 
for  by  some  of  his  best  friends.  As  a  victor  he 
must  not  show  ill-will,  etc.,  etc.  So  Colby  went 
to  the  meeting.     In  the  course  of  the  formalities, 


EVERETT  COLBY  89 

Lentz  said  something  about  the  campaign  being 
run  as  usual,  and,  Colby  says,  "I  should  have 
jumped  up  then  and  there  to  declare  that  it  would 
not  be  run  as  usual.  I  didn't.  Don't  know  why 
I  didn't,  but  I  didn't.  I  just  hadn't  my  wits 
about  me,  and  I  let  it  pass." 

The  next  day  the  papers  were  full  of  the  "Love 
Feast."  "Colby  and  the  boss  were  together." 
Colby  thinks  this  was  a  very  "  bad  break,"  and  so 
do  some  of  his  friends,  but  mistakes  don't  count 
in  these  criminal  days,  and  he  corrected  his 
promptly.  He  came  out  with  a  letter  demanding 
that  his  own,  not  the  county  committee,  should 
run  the  campaign.  This  was  a  repudiation  of 
the  organization.  Lentz  refused  to  give  up,  so 
he  ran  one  campaign,  and  Colby's  committee, 
with  William  P.  Martin  for  chairman,  ran  the 
other.  The  machine  men  cut  Colby  at  the  polls, 
but  he  won  in  spite  of  them.  The  normal  Repub- 
lican majority  in  Essex  County  ranges  from  ten 
to  twelve  thousand.  Colby's  was  19,986,  and 
some  of  the  other  men  on  his  ticket  ran  a  few 
hundred  ahead  of  him. 

The  election  of  Everett  Colby  and  his  ticket 
ranked  in  significance  with  the  victories  that  fall 
of  Jerome  in  New  York,  of  Weaver's  ticket  in 
Philadelphia,  of  Judge  Dempsy's  for  Mayor  of 
Cincinnati,  of  Tom    Johnson    in    Qeveland,   of 


-S" 


90  UPBUILDERS 

Brand  Whitlock  in  Toledo,  of  Pattison  in  Ohio, 
etc.  They  all  were  anti-boss  fights.  Some  of 
them,  like  Pattison's  and  Dempsy's,  were  min- 
ority party  fights  against  the  majority  party  boss; 
some,  like  Jerome's  and  Whitlock's,  were  against 
"both  the  bosses"  and  "all  parties";  Colby's, 
like  La  Follette's  and  Folk's,  was  within  the 
majority  party.  No  matter  how  made,  these 
fights  were  all  against  the  boss,  and  the  boss  fell. 
What  next.? 

The  political  boss  is  nothing  but  an  agent  of 
the  business  bosses  back  of  him.  Some  of  these 
anti-boss  leaders  know  this;  some  do  not.  Those 
that  do  may  get  somewhere;  the  others  won't. 
Colby  is  one  of  those  that  can  see  beyond  the  boss; 
that  is  one  reason  why  he  would  not  make  his 
campaign  a  personal  fight  against  Carl  Lentz. 
He  saw,  and  he  sees,  and  some  of  the  men  with 
him  see,  the  powers  behind  Lentz,  and  he  is  pro- 
ceeding now,  deliberately  and  intelligently  against 
them,  the  real  enemies  of  the  state,  its  active  rulers, 
the  class  which  corrupts  it,  and  its  ofllicials,  and  its 
people  for  the  sake  of  the  privileges  obtained  or 
to  be  obtained  from  the  state. 

Look  at  their  programme  of  bills  again.  In 
themselves  they  might  not  interest  you  and  me 
very  much,  but  look  behind  those  bills.  To 
"limit  franchises"   and   "to  tax  them" — these 


EVERETT  COLBY 


91 


will  bring  these  New  Jersey  leaders  in  direct,  open 
conflict  with  the  Prudential-Fidelity-Trust-Public- 
Service  interests.  To  "tax  the  roadbed  of 
railroads"  like  any  other  real  estate  is  to  chal- 
lenge a  most  profitable  privilege  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania and  other  railroads.  To  let  voters  pledge 
their  legislators  to  candidates  for  the  United 
States  Senate  —  that  is  to  make  the  United  States 
Senate  represent  the  people.  All  the  resources 
of  the  railroads,  trolleys,  and  other  public  utilities, 
and  of  all  the  "protected"  businesses  of  Jersey 
and  of  the  United  States  will  be  called  into  play 
to  defeat  this  kind  of  reform;  for  this  is  real  reform. 
It  is  not  a  little  tap  at  superficial  evils;  it  is  a  stab 
at  the  source  of  all  evil  in  all  our  politics.  It  aims 
at  democracy,  at  the  restoration  of  truly  repre- 
sentative government.  It  is  "radical";  it  is  "dan- 
gerous." If  the  corporations  do  to  Colby  in 
Jersey  what  they  have  done  to  La  Follette  in  Wis- 
consin, they  will  stir  up  envy  and  hatred  against 
him;  they  will  befool  his  followers  with  false 
arguments  or  buy  them  with  money  or  office  or 
"business";  and  they  will  embitter  his  life,  pub- 
lic and  private,  too,  with  misrepresentation  and 
slander.  If  the  fight  is  fought  to  a  finish,  every 
trick  known  to  expert  manipulators  of  legislatures 
and  public  opinion  will  be  tried,  but  the  rings 
didn't  believe  it  would  be  fought  to  a  finish.     Can 


92  UPBUILDERS 

you  guess  why  ?  One  of  them  told  me  what  their 
faith  was  founded  upon. 

"We'll  get  Colby,"  he  said.  "We'll  get  him 
before  the  session  is  over.  He  wants  something. 
Every  man  wants  something.  It's  all  a  matter 
of  finding  out  what  he  wants.  He  may  not  know 
what  it  is  himself,  but  we'll  find  out;  and  he'll 
get  it  and  we'll  get  him  —  or  his  crowd,  or  both." 

There  is  no  conceit  about  Colby,  no  bluster, 
and  when  I  told  him  this,  he  did  not  clench  his 
fist  and  set  his  jaw.  He  pondered  a  moment, 
then  he  said : 

"I  wonder  if  they  will." 

Colby  knows  the  tremendous  power  and  the 
infinite  ingenuity  of  the  interests  that  will  oppose 
him,  so  he  wondered,  as  you  or  I  may,  what 
is  going  to  happen  to  him.  He  is  as  open- 
minded  to  the  truth  about  himself  as  he  is  to  the 
truth  about  corruption,  and  because  he  is  open- 
minded,  and  because  he  can  confess  his  mistakes 
when  he  sees  them;  because  he  takes  fences  as  he 
comes  to  them,  and  because  he  says  he  "will  go 
any  length  to  put  a  stop  to  the  corruption  of  men 
and  government,"  it  is  likely  that  the  Gentle- 
man from  Essex  will  fight  to  a  finish.  What  the 
end  will  be  in  Jersey,  Jerseymen  must  decide; 
they  will  have  to  watch  the  struggle  and  choose 
between  those  representatives  who  represent  them 


0 


EVERETT  COLBY  93 

and  those  who  do  not.  But  the  rest  of  us  should 
watch,  too.  Everett  Colby  is  a  national  leaderT^ 
the  Jersey  fight  is  a  national  fight.  The  arena  is 
local,  but  others  are  making  the  same  fight  else- 
where; the  fight  we  all  must  make,  sooner  or  later 
— ■  the  fight  to  restore  the  government  of  the  people 
to  the  people.  ""- — 7^ 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE 

I.  '"the  kids'  court" 

IN  the  County  Court  of  Denver,  one  night, 
a  boy  was  arraigned  for  larceny.  The 
hour  was  late;  the  calendar  was  long,  and  the 
Judge  was  sitting  overtime.  Weary  of  the  weary 
work,  everybody  was  forcing  the  machinery  of 
the  law  to  grind  through  at  top  speed  the  dull 
routine  of  justice.  All  sorts  of  causes  went  to 
this  court,  grand  and  petty,  civil  and  criminal, 
complicated  and  simple.  The  petty  larceny  case 
was  plain;  it  could  be  disposed  of  in  no  time.  A 
theft  had  been  committed;  no  doubt  of  that.  Had 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar  done  it  ?  The  sleepy 
policeman  had  his  witness  on  hand,  and  they 
swore  out  a  case.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it; 
hardly  any  denial.  The  Law  prescribed  precisely 
what  was  to  be  done  to  such  "cases,"  and  the 
bored  Judge  ordered  that  that  thing  be  done.  That 
was  all.  In  the  same  breath  with  which  he  pro- 
nounced sentence,  the  Court  called  for  the  **  next 
case  '*  and  the  shift  was  under  way,  when  some- 
thing happened,  something  out  of  the  ordinary. 

94 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE    95 

A  cry,  an  old  woman's  shriek,  rang  out  from 
the  rear  of  the  room.  There  was  nothing  so  very 
extraordinary  about  that.  Our  courts  are  held 
in  public;  and  every  now  and  then  somebody 
makes  a  disturbance  such  as  this  old  woman 
made  when  she  rose  now  with  that  cry  on  her  lips, 
and,  tearing  her  hair  and  rending  her  garments, 
began  to  beat  her  head  against  the  wall.  It  was 
the  duty  of  the  bailiff  to  put  the  person  out,  and 
that  officer  in  this  court  moved  to  do  his  duty. 

But  the  man  on  the  bench  was  Ben  B.  Lindsey, 
the  celebrated  Judge  of  the  Juvenile  Court  of 
Denver.  He  wasn't  celebrated  then;  he  had  no 
Juvenile  Court.  He  was  only  a  young  lawyer  and 
politician  who,  for  political  services  (some  aver, 
falsely,  for  delivering  a  vote  for  a  United  States 
Senatorship)  had  been  appointed  to  fill  out  an 
unexpired  term  as  County  Judge.  Lindsey  didn't 
want  to  be  a  judge;  he  had  asked  for  the  district- 
attorneyship.  His  experiences  on  the  inside  of 
politics  had  shown  him  that  many  things  were 
wrong,  and  he  had  a  private  theory  that  the  way 
to  set  the  evils  right  was  to  enforce  the  law,  as  the 
law.  But  another  man,  Harry  .A.  Lindsley, 
had  a  prior  claim  on  the  district-attorneyship, 
and  Ben  Lindsey  had  to  take  the  judgeship  or 
nothing.  So  he  had  taken  it  (January  8,  1901), 
and    he    had    been    administering    justice  —  as 


96  UPBUILDERS 

Justice  —  for  several  weeks  when  that  woman 
cried  out  against  his  "Justice,"  and  his  "bailee" 
moved  to  uphold  the  decorum  of  his  court,  the 
dignity  of  the  Law.  And  —  the  Judge  upheld 
the  woman. 

"I  had  noticed  her  before,"  he  says  now.  "As 
my  eye  wandered  during  the  evening  it  had  fallen 
several  times  on  her,  crouched  there  among  the 
back  benches,  and  I  remember  I  thought  how  like 
a  cave-dweller  she  looked.  I  didn't  connect  her 
with  the  case,  any  case.  I  didn't  think  of  her  in 
any  human  relationship  whatsoever.  For  that 
matter,  I  hadn't  considered  the  larceny^ case  in 
any  human  way.  And  there's  the  point:  I  was  a 
'  judge,  judging  'cases'  according  to  the  *Law,'  till 
j  the  cave-dweller's  mother-cry  startled  me  into 
'  humanity.  It  was  an  awful  cry,  a  terrible  sight, 
^and  I  was  stunned.  I  looked  at  the  prisoner 
again,  but  with  new  eyes  now,  and  I  saw  the  boy, 
an  Italian  boy.  A  thief  ?  No.  A  bad  boy  ? 
Perhaps,  but  not  a  lost  criminal.  I  called  him 
back,  and  I  had  the  old  woman  brought  before  me. 
Comforting  and  quieting  her,  I  talked  with  the 
two  together,  as  mother  and  son  this  time,  and 
I  found  that  they  had  a  home.  It  made  me 
shudder.  I  had  been  about  to  send  that  boy  to 
a  prison  among  criminals  when  he  had  a  home 
and  a  mother  to  go  to.     And  that  was  the  Law! 


Copyright  by  Harris  &    Ewing 


BEN  B.  LINDSEY 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE     97 

The  fact  that  that  boy  had  a  good  home;  the  cir- 
cumstances which  led  him  to  —  not  steal,  but 
'swipe'  something;  the  likelihood  of  his  not  doing 
it  again  —  these  were  'evidence '  pertinent,  nay 
vital,  to  his  case.  Yet  the  Law  did  not  require 
the  production  of  such  evidence.  The  Law  ? 
Justice  ?  I  stopped  the  machinery  of  justice  to 
pull  that  boy  out  of  its  grinders.  But  he  was 
guilty;  what  was  to  be  done  with  him  ?  I  didn't 
know.  I  said  I  would  take  care  of  him  myself, 
but  I  didn't  know  what  I  meant  to  do  —  except  to 
visit  him  and  his  mother  at  their  home.  And  I 
did  visit  them,  often,  and  —  well,  we  —  his  mother 
and  I,  with  the  boy  helping  —  we  saved  that  boy, 
and  to-day  he  is  a  fine  young  fellow,  industrious, 
self-respecting,  and  a  friend  of  the  Court." 

This  was  the  beginning,  the  Judge  will  tell  you, 
of  his  practice  of  putting  juvenile  offenders,  not 
in  prison  to  be  punished,  but  on  probation  to  be 
saved.  It  wasn't.  The  Judge  is  looking  back- 
ward, and  he  sees  things  in  retrospect  as  he  has 
thought  them  out  since,  logically,  with  his  mind. 
If  you  should  take  his  word  for  it,  you  would  get 
the  impression  that  this  first  "probation  case" 
was  the  beginning  of  his  famous  Juvenile  Court, 
the  most  remarkable  institution  of  the  kind  in  all 
the  world.  And  if  you  got  that  impression  in 
just  that  way,  you  might  do  as  the  reformers  of 


98  UPBUILDERS 

some  twenty-five  states  and  a  few  hundred  cities 
have  done — you  might  lose  the  significance  of 
Judge  Lindsey.  You  might  learn  his  methods 
and  miss  the  man.  You  might  imitate  his  "kids' 
court,"  and  make  a  mistake  with  both  the  "kids" 
and  their  "Jedge,"  as  they  call  him.  And  you 
certainly  would  do,  as  Denver  desires  to  do,  and 
Colorado  —  limit  the  meaning  of  Judge  Lindsey's 
life-work  to  the  problem  of  the  children. 

Ben  Lindsey's  "methods"  are  as  applicable  to 
grown-ups  as  to  kids.  Man  has  a  way  of  invent- 
ing devices  to  help  him  to  be  a  man;  a  spear, 
an  army,  the  Church,  political  parties,  business. 
By  and  by  the  aid  to  his  weakness  comes  to  be  a 
fetish  with  him,  a  burden,  an  end  in  itself,  an 
institution.  He  decorates  his  spear,  keeping  a 
commoner  weapon  to  hunt  with.  His  army 
returns  from  fighting  his  enemies  to  conquer  him. 
Priests  declare  the  Church  holy  and,  instead  of  min- 
istering to  men,  make  men  minister  to  the  Church. 
Political  parties,  founded  to  establish  principles 
for  the  strengthening  of  the  State  and  its  citizen- 
ship, betray  principles  and  manhood  and  the 
State  for  the  "good  of  the  party."  Business, 
the  mere  machinery  of  living,  has  become  in 
America  the  purpose  of  life,  the  end  to  which  all 
other  goods  —  honour,  religion,  politics,  men, 
women   and   children,   the  very  Nation   itself  — 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE     99 

are  sacrificed.  And  so  with  the  laws  and  the 
courts.  Jurists  and  legislators  note  and  deplore 
the  passing  of  respect  for  the  Law  and  of  faith  in 
the  courts,  and  they  wonder  why.  It  is  largely 
because  we  laymen  think  we  observe  that  legis- 
lation purporting  to  be  for  the  common  good  is 
bought  for  the  special  evils;  that  laws  enacted  to 
help  us  are  manipulated  to  our  hurt;  and  that 
our  courts,  set  up  to  render  justice,  either  make 
a  worship  of  the  letter  of  the  Law  or  violate  the 
spirit  thereof  to  work  deliberate  injustice.  As 
for  the  penal  code,  nourished  by  the  centuries 
to  prevent  crime,  it  is  operated  as  escapes  for  the 
strong  criminal  or  as  instruments  of  society's 
revenge  upon  the  weak. 

Ben  Lindsey's  great,  new,  ancient  discovery 
is  that  men  are  what  we  are  after,  men  and  women; 
and  that  everything  else,  business  and  laws, 
politics,  the  Church,  the  schools  —  these  are  not 
institutions,  but  means  to  those  higher  ends, 
character  and  right  living.  He  began  with  the 
laws;  the  Law  he  was  prepared  to  revere.  He  saw 
that  the  Law  was  capable  of  stupid  injustices 
and  gross  wrongs;  and  setting  humanity  up  on  the 
bench  beside  his  authority,  he  has  reduced  the 
Law  to  its  proper,  humble  function  —  the  ser- 
vice of  men  and  of  the  State.  He  has  drawn  the 
sting  of  punishment  out  of  the  perm'  iicde,  stamped 


100  UPBUILDERS 

out  the  spirit  of  vengeance;  he  has  tried  to  make 
his  Court  a  place  where  the  prisoners  at  the  bar 
are  helped  to  become  good  men  and  useful  citi- 
zens. His  greatest  service  has  been  to  boys  and 
girls,  but  that  is  only  because  he  found  in  children 
the  most  helpless  victims  of  our  machine  system 
of  "businesslike  justice."  He  has  created  in  his 
Juvenile  Court  a  new  human  institution,  the 
beauty  and  use  of  which  is  spreading  imitative 
"movements"  ajl  over  the  land.  But,  wonderful 
as  his  creation,  is,  this  man  should  not  be  known 
as  the  founder  of  another  institution.  That  might 
become,  like  certain  societies  for  the  prevention 
of  cruelty  to  animals  or  to  children,  only  another 
"end  in  itself." 

Judge  Lindsey  is  a  man,  a  brave,  gentle  man, 
.who  is  re-introducing  into  life,  all  life,  and  into 
all  the  institutions  which  he  can  influence,  the 
spirit  of  humanity.  As  he  puts  it  in  his  "  Problem 
of  the  Children,"  "these  great  movements  for  the 
betterment  of  our  children  are  simply  typical  of 
the  noblest  spirit  of  this  age,  the  Christ-spirit  of 
unselfish  love,  of  hope  and  joy.  It  has  reached 
its  acme  in  what  were  formerly  the  criminal 
courts.  The  old  process  is  changed.  Instead  of 
coming  to  destroy,  we  come  to  rescue.  Instead 
of  coming  to  punish,  we  come  to  uplift.  Instead  of 
coming  to  hate,  we  come  to  love." 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE   loi 

That  the  man  has  this  more  general  significance 
is  shown  by  the  gradual,  apparently  accidental 
way  in  which  he  developed  his  "methods"  and  his 
Court.  He  didn't  think  them  out  with  his  mind. 
That  isn't  the  way  big,  human  things  are  done 
in  this  big,  human  world  of  ours;  they  are  felt  out 
with  the  heart.  The  man  Lindsey  had  heart, 
and  the  cave-dweller's  cry  reached  it,  and  when 
the  Judge  felt  her  agony,  he  found  himself.  That 
was  all.  His  judgment  in  this  case  was  but  the  / 
beginning  of  Judge  Lindsey's  practice  of  putting  / 
heart  into  his  business.  He  didn't  know  what 
probation  was  when  he  said  he'd  take  care  himself 
of  the  cave-dweller's  boy.  We  have  seen  that 
he  hadn't  thought  of  being  a  judge,  and  the  idea 
of  a  Juvenile  Court  hadn't  dawned  upon  him. 
It  took  other  cases  to  "set  him  thinking."  The 
other  cases  came. 

One  day  a  "burglary"  appeared  on  his  calendar. 
The  Judge  says  he  looked  around  curiously  for 
the  burglars.  He  saw  none  till  the  case  was 
called.  Then  three  boys  were  haled  whimpering 
before  him,  three  ordinary,  healthy  American 
boys,  from  twelve  to  sixteen.  What  had  they 
burglarized  ?  A  pigeon-loft.  A  pigeon-loft !  Yes, 
your  Honour,  they  broke  into  a  pigeon-loft  and  were 
caught  red-handed  steaHng  pigeons.  That  was 
burglary;  there  was  no  doubt  about  the  crime. 


102  UPBUILDERS 

What  was  to  be  done  with  the  burglars  ?  They 
were  to  be  sent  to  the  reformatory,  of  course; 
the  Law  prescribed  the  penalty.  The  Judge 
shook  his  head,  "No." 

He  didn't  say  so  in  court  then,  but  he  tells  now 
how  he  was  recalling  the  time  when  he,  as  a  boy, 
went  robbing  a  pigeon-loft.  He  didn't  actually 
commit  "burglary,"  but  he  would  have  if  he 
hadn't  lost  his  nerve.  He  was  "  scared  " ;  the  other 
kids  had  told  him  so,  and  it  was  true.  And  they 
left  him,  in  contempt  and  ashamed,  while  they 
robbed  the  coop.  So  he  wasn't  an  ex-convict, 
not  because  he  was  a  good  boy,  no;  nor  because 
he  was  "smaller  than  them,"  though  that  was  a 
plea  set  up  in  the  gang  in  his  behalf.  He  wasn't 
a  burglar,  like  these  boys  before  him  now,  simply 
because  he  didn't  have  as  much  "sand"  as 
they  had.  Was  he  going  to  punish  them  as 
burglars,  "send  them  up"  for  crime,  to  live  among 
criminals  ?     No. 

But  the  complainant  had  a  view  to  present. 
A  worried,  old,  persecuted  man,  he  told  how  boys 
were  forever  stealing  his  pigeons;  how  he  had 
"laid  for  them"  again  and  again;  how  they  gen- 
erally escaped;  and  how,  finally,  after  many  fail- 
ures, he  had  caught  these  three.  He  wanted  them 
punished;  he  begged  to  have  them  "sent  to  jail." 

There  was  something  familiar  in  the  appear- 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE   103 

ance  of  the  poor  old  pigeon  fancier,  and  the  Judge 
questioned  him:  where  he  lived;  where  his  barn 
was;  just  where  the  pigeon-loft  was;  what  his 
name  was;  whether  he  had  a  nickname.  The  old 
man  answered,  peevishly,  but  fully  enough  for  the 
Judge  to  learn  what  he  wanted  to  know.  This 
was  the  very  man,  his  were  the  pigeons,  his  loft 
was  the  same  old  loft  which  he,  the  Judge,  and 
his  gang  had  burglarized  years  ago.  And  now 
the  Law  expected  him,  a  Judge,  to  send  to  prison 
these  boys  who  were  no  worse  than  he  was;  nay, 
who  were  better,  for  they  had  the  "sand"  he 
lacked!  If  he,  the  Judge,  had  been  sent  up  for 
burglary  he  might  not  have  become  County  Judge, 
and  if  he  didn't  send  up  these  boys  as  burglars, 
they  might  become  county  judges,  or  —  since  they 
had  more  "sand"  —  something  better. 

But  there  was  the  Law;  what  about  that  ? 
The  boys  had  committed  a  crime;  what  was  the 
Judge  to  do  with  them  ?  He  didn't  know;  he 
would  have  to  "think  it  over."  And  he  thought 
it  over.  He  went  back  to  first  principles.  What 
did  the  complainant  really  want  ?  Only  to  have 
his  property  protected.  And  what  was  the  law 
against  burglary  for  ?  To  protect  property  by 
preventing  burglary.  Wasn't  there  any  other  way 
to  achieve  these  common  ends  except  by  punish- 
ing these  boys  as  burglars  ?     And  if  he  put  them 


104  UPBUILDERS 

in  prison  might  not  other  boys  go  on  robbing  the 
pigeon-loft  ?  The  Judge  says  it  is  "  out  of  the 
mouths  of  babes"  that  he  has  learned  wisdom. 
He  took  the  prisoners  into  his  chamber,  and  he 
talked  with  them. 

Now,  the  Judge's  talks  with  boys  and  girls  are 
regarded  with  superstition  by  some  people;  he 
gets  such  wonderful  results  —  the  truth,  for 
example.  Children  who  lie  to  their  parents,  their 
teachers,  and  the  police,  tell  him  everything. 
The  police  started  a  story  that  Judge  Lindsey  is 
a  "hypnotist,"  and  others  speak  wisely  of  his 
"method."  His  "method"  is  very  simple;  he 
employed  it,  before  he  knew  it  was  a  "method," 
with  his  Italian  "thief"  and  his  first  trio  of  "burg- 
lars." Friendship  is  the  key.  Judge  Lindsey 
talks  to  boys  as  one  boy  talks  to  another. 

His  personal  appearance  helps  him.  The 
"Jedge"  is  a  short,  slight,  boyish-looking  young 
man,  open-faced,  direct,  sincere,  and  he  lays  off 
the  ermine,  figuratively  speaking,  very  readily; 
indeed,  he  hardly  ever  puts  it  on  now,  even  on  the 
bench.  In  chambers  he  comes  right  down  to 
earth,  using  boy-talk,  including  slang.  For  this 
he  has  been  criticized  by  good  people  who  think 
of  English  as  an  institution,  to  be  kept  pure. 
The  Judge  answers  that  he  has  something  else  in 
mind  than  the  purity  of  the  language.     He  has 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE   105 

found  "after  four  years'  experience  that  the 
judicious  use  of  a  few  of  these  slang  terms  not  only 
does  not  hurt  the  boy,  but  actually  helps  him,  and 
wins  his  confidence,"  and,  since  the  boys  are  what 
he  is  after,  he  declares  he  will  "continue  to  talk 
to  the  boys  to  a  certain  extent  much  the  same  as 
they  talk  with  one  another." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  an  instinct  with  the 
Judge,  a  part  of  his  simple  naturalness  and  his 
native  desire  to  understand  others,  which  prompts 
him  to  say  "  fellers  " ;  "  ah,  say,  kids,  let's  cut  it  out." 
When  he  called  in  his  burglars,  it  was  no  judge 
that  asked  them  if  they  belonged  to  a  gang.  It 
was  no  fatherly  elder,  wisely  pretending  to  a 
superior  sort  of  interest  in  the  habits  and  cus- 
toms of  their  "crowd,"  and  the  limits  of  their 
range  or  habitat.  It  was  "one  feller  askin'  th' 
other  fellers,  on  the  level  now,  all  about  swipin' 
pigeons."  The  reason  he,  the  Judge,  and  his 
gang  robbed  the  coop  was  to  get  a  certain  variety 
of  fan-tail  pigeons  which  the  old  man  wouldn't 
sell,  and  he  understood  it  when  the  boys  explained 
that  what  they  were  after,  really,  was  to  get  back 
some  of  their  pigeons  which  had  joined  the  old 
man's  bigger  flock.  Also,  however,  the  boys  under- 
stood the  Judge  when  he  reflected  that  it  wasn't 
right  to  go  and  "rob  back"  your  pigeons;  that  it 
annoyed  the  old  man,  wronged  him,  and  hurt  the 


io6  UPBUILDERS 

boys.  Maybe  the  old  man  was  grouchy,  but, 
gee,  the  coop  was  his,  and  "swiping"  wasn't 
"square."  It  was  sneaky,  it  was  weak  to  steal. 
So  he  proposed  to  stop  this  "weakness"  of  this 
gang;  not  only  of  the  three  that  had  been  caught, 
but  of  the  whole  gang. 

Now,  the  Judge  teaches  respect  for  grown-up 
law  by  himself  invariably  showing  great  respect 
for  "kid  law."  It  is  against  the  law  of  Boyville 
to  "snitch"  (tattle).  So  he  wouldn't  let  them 
tell  him  who  the  other  "burglars"  were.  "But, 
say,  fellers,"  he  said,  "you  bring  in  the  other 
kids,  and  we'll  talk  it  over,  and  we'll  see  if  we 
can't  agree  to  cut  out  stealing  altogether,  and 
especially  to  stop  swipin'  pigeons  off  the  old  man." 

That  was  fair,  and  it  was  human.  They  went 
away,  and  they  got  the  gang.  And  the  gang 
entered  into  a  deal  with  the  "  Jedge";  "sure  they 
did."  Who  wouldn't?  And  do  you  think  they 
would  go  back  on  a  Judge  like  that  ?  Sure  they 
wouldn't,  and  they  wouldn't  let  any  other  feller 
go  back  on  him  either;  not  much;  not  if  they 
could  prevent  it;  and  they  thought  they  could. 
And  they  did,  as  they  reported  from  time  to  time. 

It  was  this  case,  which,  coming  home  so  per- 
sonally to  him,  set  the  Judge  thinking.  "It 
seemed  to  me,"  he  says,  "that  we  were  not  pro- 
ceeding just  right  in  such  cases.     I  didn't  know 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  107 

anything  about  it,  but  it  looked  wrong  to  charge 
these  boys  with  burglary.  It  was  unnecessary 
under  the  Law,  too;  the  school  law  of  1899  per- 
mitted children  to  be  brought  to  the  County 
Court  as  'juvenile  disorderly  persons.'  And 
here  they  were  being  arraigned  as  thieves  and 
burglars.  We  were  deahng  with  the  thing  the 
child  did,  not  with  the  child;  and  the  child  was 
what  should  concern  us.  I  don't  blame  anybody 
in  particular.  I  had  been  at  fault  myself.  A 
good  many  children  were  brought  into  my  Court, 
and  I  had  been  following  the  thoughtless  routine. 
The  fact  is,  I  was  pretty  free  in  sending  boys  to 
the  Industrial  School  at  Golden  till  these  special 
cases  awoke  my  special  interest.  Then  I  began 
to  consider  the  situation  generally.  I  found  that 
there  was  no  system  about  juvenile  cases.  Some 
were  sent  to  the  District  Court,  others  to  the 
Justice  Courts,  others  to  mine.  We  all  were 
'trying'  the  boys  for  the  'crimes'  they  had  com- 
mitted, finding  many  of  them  guilty  and  send- 
ing them  away.  It  was  absurd;  it  was  criminal, 
really.  The  thing  a  child  had  stolen  was  treated 
as  of  more  importance  than  the  child.  This  was 
carrying  the  idea  of  property  to  an  extreme.  It 
was  time  to  get  back  to  the  idea  of  men  and  women, 
the  men  and  women  of  to-morrow,  and  obviously 
some  system  of  character-building  was  needed  in 


io8  UPBUILDERS 

the  Court.  Fortunately,  there  were  laws  in  exist- 
ence under  which  juvenile  offenders  could  be 
brought  into  court  as  'dependent,'  'neglected,' 
or  'delinquent'  children,  and  these  laws  were 
enough  as  they  stood  for  the  starting  of  a  Juvenile 
Court.  We  hoped  to  get  other  laws  later;  but 
those  that  we  had  would  enable  us  to  treat  the 
children,  rather  than  the  children's  crimes." 

Judge  Lindsey  went  to  District- attorney  Linds- 
ley  with  the  request  that  all  children's  cases  be 
brought  to  his  Court;  and  that  they  be  accused 
there  of  delinquency  instead  of  the  particular 
crimes  for  which  they  were  arrested.  The  Dis- 
trict-attorney was  willing.  Lindsey's  request 
was  regarded  as  "queer,"  but  nobody  wanted 
the  bother  of  these  "kids'"  cases,  so  the  Judge 
was  permitted  to  found  his  "kids'  court."  And 
he  founded  it,  and  it  is  the  "kids'  court,"  their 
very  own.  It  is  run  in  the  interest  of  the 
"bad"  boys  and  girls,  and  therefore  of  the  state, 
and  the  children  needed  the  Court,  and  so  did 
the  state. 

While  the  Judge  was  "thinking,"  the  question 
arose  in  his  mind:  "What  sort  of  a  place  is  the 
Industrial  School  where  I  have  been  sending  boys 
so  freely  ? "  He  went  to  Golden  to  see.  Nobody 
up  there  remembered  ever  having  been  visited 
before  by  a  judge  on  the  bench,  and  this  Judge 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  109 

saw  boys  with  the  ball  and  chain  on  them.  He 
began  a  quiet  reform  of  the  reformatory.  Then 
he  asked  himself  what  kind  of  places  the  jails  were. 
One  Sunday  evening  he  visited  the  City  Jail. 

"It  was  a  dirty,  filthy  place,"  he  says.  "The 
plaster  was  off  the  walls,  which  were  crawling 
with  vermin." 

He  went  over  to  the  County  Jail.  The  condi- 
tions were  much  the  same,  but  what  stirred  up 
the  Judge's  "thoughts"  to  the  bottom  of  his  heart 
was  the  sight  of  boys  in  the  same  cells  with  men 
and  women  "of  the  vilest  type."  A  little  further 
inquiry  showed  him  that  these  children  were 
allowed  to  associate  freely  with  grown  criminals. 
Locked  up  with  them  in  the  County  Jail,  they 
visited  the  men  in  the  bull-pen  down  in  the  City 
Jail.  The  boys  liked  to  listen  to  the  "great  crim- 
inals," and  the  great  criminals  liked  to  brag 
to  the  boys.  It  was  a  school  of  crime.  The 
men  told  the  boys  how  they  "beat  the  police" 
and,  filling  them  with  criminal  ideals,  taught  them 
how  to  commit  "great"  crimes. 

"I  found  that  in  the  five  years  before  I  went  on 
the  bench,  2,136  Denver  boys  had  been  in  these 
jails  for  periods  varying  from  a  few  hours  to 
thirty  days,  and,"  the  Judge  adds  in  his  mild  way, 
"I  was  satisfied  the  influence  was  not  good.  But 
that  was  typical.     This  was  being  done  all  over 


no  UPBUILDERS 

the  country,  and  it  is  now  in  many  places.  Every 
boy  who  makes  a  mistake  or,  if  you  will,  every 
child  that  shows  any  tendency  to  crime  is  sent 
to  a  school  where  crime  is  taught.  Is  it  any  won- 
der that  juvenile  crime  is  on  the  increase  ?" 

And  the  Judge  found  that  juvenile  crime  was 
on  the  increase  generally  in  the  United  States. 
He  engaged  the  services  of  a  clipping  bureau,  and 
he  quotes,  in  his  "  Problem  of  the  Children,"  some 
of  the  results:  "Five  Thousand  Boys  Arrested 
Last  Year"  (in  one  city);  "4,000  out  of  16,000 
Arrests  Last  Year  Were  Boys  Under  Twenty"  (in 
a  city  of  less  than  150,000) ;  "  Bandits  Caught  Mere 
Boys"  (a  frequent  head  line);  "Over  Half  the 
Murderers  Last  Year  Were  Boys";  "  Boy  Burglars 
Getting  Common";  "Thieving  Increasing  Among 
Children";  "Desperate  Boy  Bandits  Captured" 
(aged  twelve,  thirteen,  and  fifteen).  And  he  cites 
the  Van  Wormer  boys  of  New  York;  the  Bid- 
dies of  Pennsylvania;  the  car-barn  murderers 
of  Illinois;  the  Collinses  of  Missouri;  the  boy 
murderers  of  Nebraska;  the  Youngblood  mur- 
derers of  Denver;  the  boy  train- wreckers  of  the 
West,  and  the  reform-school  boy  murderers  of 
California.  The  phrase  "mere  boys"  indicated 
that  the  news  editors  regarded  juvenile  crime 
as  exceptional  and  remarkable;  it  isn't.  Three- 
quarters  of  the  crimes  committed  in  the  United 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  iii 

States,  the  Judge  says,  are  done  by  boys  under 
twenty-three ! 

"And  why  not?"  he  asks.  "The  children  of 
parents  who  die  or  fail  in  their  duty  are  taken 
by  the  State  and  sent  for  their  schooling  into  the 
streets  or  jails  where  they  pick  up  false  ideals  and 
criminal  arts.  With  few  exceptions,  all  these 
boy  criminals  named  above,  whom  society  has 
sent  to  the  slaughter-house  to  be  killed,  had  been 
sent  to  jail  in  their  teens  by  society  for  other 
crimes.  And  most  of  them  were  first  imprisoned 
as  little  children." 

In  other  words,  our  criminal  court  system  does 
not  prevent,  it  fosters  crime.  Our  "businesslike" 
procedure  of  heartless,  thoughtless  "justice" 
makes  criminals.  What  should  the  State  do  ? 
The  Judge  says  that  when  the  State  gets  hold  of 
a  "bad"  child,  it  takes  the  place  of  the  parent, 
and  like  a  good  parent,  it  should  try  to  mould 
that  child  into  a  good  citizen.  He  gives  an  illus- 
tration in  his  "Problem  of  the  Children." 

"We  recall  the  case  (and  it  is  one  of  hundreds)," 
the  Judge  says  there,  "of  a  young  man  who  had 
been  in  the  criminal  courts  at  the  age  of  thirteen. 
At  twenty  he  shot  down  a  policeman  who  was 
heroically  doing  his  duty.  Suppose  that  at  the 
age  of  thirteen  that  boy  had  been  studied,  helped, 
looked  after,  and  carefully  handled;  would  that 


112  UPBUILDERS 

policeman  be  maimed  for  life,  or  dead,  a  young  wife 
and  child  a  charge  on  the  community,  and  a  strong, 
robust  young  man  a  charge  on  the  State  for  life  ? 
Perhaps  not,  and  even  so  we  could  have  felt  better 
about  it,  and  in  the  sight  of  God  less  accountable. 
Was  the  State  responsible  ?  Yes,  even  more  than 
the  boy,  for  he  was  in  jail  in  the  plastic  stage. 
The  State  had  him  in  time,  and  it  did  nothing  — 
not  even  try.  The  State  treated  him  as  a  man, 
this  boy.  .  .  Strange  that  if  his  money  or 
property  were  involved  he  could  control  none  of  it; 
he  would  need  a  guardian  in  that  case.  A  boy's 
property  is  important.  But  his  morals  —  the  boy, 
the  man  in  embryo,  the  citizen  to  be  —  needed  no 
guardian.  This  boy  needed  no  help.  He  needed 
punishment.  He  needed  retribution,  and  so  as 
a  boy  he  got  what  men  got,  that  which  is  often 
barbarous  even  for  men.  I  have  seen  them, 
eleven  to  fifteen  years  of  age,  in  the  same  bull- 
pen with  men  and  women,  with  chains  about 
their  waists  and  limbs.  And  I  have  seen  them 
crowded  together  in  idleness,  in  filthy  rooms  where 
suggestiveness  fills  the  mind  with  all  things  vile 
and  lewd.  Such  has  been  too  often  the  first  step 
taken  by  the  great  State  in  the  correction  of  the 
child." 

Judge  Lindsey  founded  his  Juvenile  Court  to 
correct  and  save  to  the  State  the  children  who  were 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  113 

caught  up  in  the  meshes  of  the  criminal  law,  and 
his  first  step  was  the  correction  of  himself  and  of 
the  Court.  Having  to  start  with  only  the  idea, 
which  was  really  little  more  than  a  sentiment, 
that  the  welfare  of  the  child  prisoner  was  the  chief 
consideration,  he  had  to  institute  proceedings  to 
meet  the  needs  of  the  child.  What  were  those 
needs  ?  The  Judge  didn't  know,  and  he  had  no 
theory;  he  had  to  find  out  for  himself.  How  did 
he  go  about  finding  out  ?  Very  simply,  very 
naturally.     He  asked  the  child. 

One  of  the  first,  most  obvious  observations  he 
made  was  that  children  came  into  Court  with 
either  tears  or  defiance  in  their  eyes.  They  hated 
the  policeman,  and  they  feared  the  Judge,  and 
since  the  "cop"  and  the  Court  were  the  personi- 
fication of  justice  and  the  State,  these  young 
citizens  were  being  reared  in  the  spirit  of  dread 
and  hatred  of  law  and  authority.  This  was  all 
wrong,  and  yet  it  was  perfectly    natural. 

"The  criminal  court  for  child-offenders,"  writes 
the  Judge,  "is  based  on  the  doctrine  of  fear, 
degradation,  and  punishment.  It  was,  and  is, 
absurd.  The  Juvenile  Court  was  founded  on 
the  principle  of  love.  We  assumed  that  the  child 
had  committed,  not  a  crime,  but  a  mistake,  and 
that  he  deserved  correction,  not  punishment. 
Of   course,    there    is    firmness    and    justice,    for 


114  UPBUILDERS 

without  these  there  would  be  danger  in  leniency. 
But  there  is  no  justice  without  love." 

The  Judge  drove  out  fear  from  his  Court,  and 
hate  and  brutality;  for  awe,  he  substituted  con- 
fidence and  affection.  How  did  he  do  this  ? 
By  coming  down  off  the  bench  to  the  boy.  Since 
the  boy  was  the  centre  of  interest,  the  Judge  sub- 
ordinated his  own  "dignity"  and  the  whole 
machinery  of  the  Court  and  even  the  "stolen 
property,"  to  win  back  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 
The  good  of  the  boy,  obviously  paramount  in  the 
mind  of  the  Court,  was  made  paramount  in  the 
mind  of  the  boy,  who  was  led  to  feel  that  every- 
body cared  about  him,  that  everything  done  was 
done  for  him  in  his  interest.  "Of  course,"  he 
says,  "the  Law  is  important,  but  the  vital  thing 
is  the  relationship  established  with  the  child. 
The  case  from  the  boy's  standpoint  must  be  under- 
stood." Each  case,  the  Judge  means.  He  seeks 
to  get  for  himself  a  personal,  sympathetic  under- 
standing of  each  separate  case.  There  are  no 
hard  and  fast  rules.  No  fixed  routine  will  do  the 
work.  The  Judge  didn't  turn  away  hate,  quiet 
fear,  and  dry  tears  by  any  "methods."  When 
a  child  is  brought  weeping  or  scowling  before 
him,  Ben  Lindsey  is  dragged  off  that  bench  by 
his  heartstrings,  and  when  he  sits  on  a  stool  beside 
the  boy  in  trouble,  or  goes  for  a  walk  with  him. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  115 

or  takes  him  home  to  dinner  or  "out  to  the  show," 
this  is  no  art  thought  out  by  a  wise  man.  This 
is  nothing  but  a  good  man  putting  into  his  work 
what  he  wants  to  get  out  of  it  —  "faith,  hope, 
and  love." 

To  understand  the  case  of  Ben  Lindsey,  it  is 
necessary  to  study  it  as  he  advises  us  to  study  the 
cases  of  boys  —  from  the  boys'  standpoint.  He 
tells  in  one  of  his  articles  how  a  young  fellow  of 
twenty,  who  was  under  sentence  for  murder, 
regarded  the  old  criminal  court.  This  boy  had 
been  arrested  at  the  age  of  twelve  for  stealing 
a  razor  to  whittle  a  stick.  "It  was  this  way," 
he  explained  to  Lindsey.  "The  guy  on  the  high 
bench,  with  the  whiskers,  says,  'What's  the 
boy  done,  officer  ? '  And  the  cop  says,  says  he, 
*He's  a  bad  kid,  your  Honour,  and  broke  into  a 
store  and  stole  a  razor.'  And  the  guy  on  the  high 
bench  says,  *Ten  dollars  or  ten  days.'  Time, 
three  minutes;  one  round  of  a  prize-fight." 

In  Judge  Lindsey's  court,  in  the  beginning, 
when  boys  still  came  there  with  sorrow  and 
gnashing  of  teeth,  they  saw  no  "guy  with  whis- 
kers, on  a  high  bench  "  asking  the  "  cop  "  questions. 
They  saw  a  clean-cut  young  man  come  into  court, 
go  up  to  the  first  boy  to  be  "tried"  and  ask: 
"What's  the  matter,  my  boy?  You  been  mak- 
ing   a    mistake  ?      Well,    lots    of   fellers    make 


ii6  UPBUILDERS 

mistakes.  That's  nothing.  Fve  made  mistakes 
myself,  worse'n  yours,  I  guess."  Then  turning 
to  the  policeman,  he  asks:  "What  is  it,  officer  ?" 
The  policeman  tells  about  the  crime,  say  theft. 
"Stealing  isn't  right,"  says  the  Judge,  and  he 
appeals  to  the  boys  in  the  court  room,  "Is  it, 
fellers  ?"  Putting  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder, 
he  gives  him  a  shove  back  and  a  pull  forward. 
"It's  weak  to  swipe  things."  That  hurts.  Boys 
learn  in  the  street  that  it's  smart  and  brave  to 
steal,  and  the  only  evil  thing  about  it  is  getting 
caught.  Lots  of  men  take  this  view,  too,  but 
Judge  Lindsey  sets  up  another  standard.  "I 
know  how  it  is,"  he  says.  "It's  a  temptation. 
It's  a  chance  to  get  something  easy,  something 
you  want;  or  something  you  can  sell  to  get 
something  you  want.  Wanted  to  go  to  the  show, 
maybe.  Well,  it  takes  a  pretty  strong  feller  to 
down  the  desire  to  take  the  chance  and  see  the 
show.  But  it's  wrong  to  swipe  things.  'Tain't 
fair;  'tain't  brave;  it's  just  mean,  and  it  hurts  the 
feller  that  steals.  Makes  him  steal  again,  and 
by  and  by  he  is  caught  and  sent  up  —  a  thief. 
Now  you  ain't  a  thief,  and  you  don't  want  to  be. 
Do  you  ?  But  you  were  too  weak  to  resist  the 
temptation,  so  you  were  caught.  Ought  to  cut 
it  out.  Not  because  you  were  caught.  That 
isn't  the  reason  a  feller  oughtn't  to  steal.     It's 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  117 

because  it's  mean  and  sneaky,  and  no  feller  wants 
to  be  mean  and  sneaky.  He  wants  to  be  on  the 
square. 

**  But  what  are  you  crying  for  ?  You've  been 
crying  ever  since  I  began  to  talk  to  you.  Afraid 
of  being  punished  I  Pshaw,  a  feller  ought  to 
stand  up  and  take  his  medicine;  but  we  don't 
punish  boys.  We  just  try  to  help  'em  get  strong 
and  be  square.  Even  when  we  send  fellers  to 
Golden,  it  isn't  for  punishment;  it's  only  to  help 
a  kid  that's  weak  to  get  strong  enough  to  control 
himself.  So  we  aren't  going  to  punish  you.  I 
believe  you  can  control  yourself  without  going  to 
Golden.  We'll  see.  But  first  off,  a  kid  ought  to 
be  strong  enough  and  sufficiently  on  the  square 
to  tell  the  truth  about  himself.  Ought  to  tell 
not  only  about  this  time,  when  you're  caught, 
but  all  the  other  times,  too.  You  wait,  and 
after  court  we'll  go  back  in  chambers  and  we'll 
have  it  all  out,  just  us  two." 

This  is  rather  reassuring,  isn't  it  ?  It  proved 
so  to  the  children  who  sat  waiting  their  turn  at 
the  first  sessions  of  the  Juvenile  Court.  There 
was  no  terrorism  in  it,  no  trace  of  hardness,  there 
were  no  awful  forms.  The  children  felt  the  dif- 
ference. "The  Judge,  he  gives  a  feller  a  show," 
said  one  boy  to  me.  And  as  they  saw  the  pro- 
ceedings in  court,  so  the  children  heard  about  the 


ii8  UPBUILDERS 

scenes  in  chambers.  These  were  the  best  of  all, 
best  for  the  kids  and  best  for  the  Judge.  There 
is  where  Lindsey  saw  into  the  hearts  of  children, 
and  where  they  saw  into  his. 

"Never  let  a  child  get  away  with  a  lie  on  his 
soul,"  the  Judge  says.  "A  clean  breast  is  half 
the  battle."  Children  are  wonderful  liars,  but 
the  Judge  thinks  he  can  tell  when  they  are  lying 
and  they  admit  that  he  has  an  instinct  for  the 
truth.  One  foundation  for  their  respect  for  him 
is  that  with  all  his  kindness  he  isn't  sentimental; 
and  he  isn't  "easy."  "You  can't  fool  the  Jedge," 
the  boys  say,  and  the  police  tell,  as  an  illustra- 
tion, the  story  of  a  "tough  kid"  on  whom  all 
the  Judge's  appeals  seemed  to  fail.  He  "lied 
straight,"  and  since  the  Judge  will  not  help  (try) 
a  boy  who  will  not  tell  the  truth,  he  told  the  offi- 
cer to  take  the  boy  away.  On  the  way  back  to 
jail,  the  boy  changed  his  mind.  He  asked  to  be 
taken  again  before  the  Judge.  "You're  right, 
Judge,"  he  said,  "and  you're  game,  too.  I  lied 
to  you;  I  lied  like  a  horse  thief;  and  I  couldn't 
fool  you  a  little  bit.  You've  beat  me.  Judge, 
and  I'll  tell  you  th'  truth."     And  he  did. 

The  Judge  in  chambers  reasons  with  the  boy 
that  while  it  is  wrong  to  "snitch"  on  other  fel- 
lows, it  is  all  right  to  "snitch"  on  yourself.  The 
boys  understand  this.     It  is  made  clear  to  them 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  119 

that  there  is  no  punishment,  only  "help  for  a 
feller  if  he  needs  it,"  and  among  the  most  inter- 
esting experiences  that  the  Judge  has  to  tell,  are 
the  discussions  he  has  with  boys  as  to  whether 
they  "need  to  go  to  Golden." 

There's  a  little,  old,  young,  big  man,  called 
"  Major,"  whom  I  saw  in  command  of  the  battalion 
at  Golden.  He  is  somewhere  between  twelve  and 
sixteen,  but  with  an  old,  old  face;  very  tiny  of 
stature,  but  very  tall  in  dignity.  He  never  smiles, 
so  sober  and  sensible  is  he.  But  he  had  what  the 
kids  and  their  Judge  know  as  the  "  movin'-about 
fever."  The  Major  had  come  honestly  by  it. 
He  had  no  home,  and  he  wanted  none,  for  he 
could  range  all  over  the  West,  from  Chicago  up 
into  Idaho  and  down  into  New  Mexico,  and 
always,  everywhere,  he  was  known,  for  his  pom- 
pous dignity,  to  hoboes,  cow-boys,  miners  — 
to  all  men  as  "the  Major."  The  Judge  gave  him 
trial  after  trial,  and  it  was  no  use;  the  time  always 
came  when  the  Major  had  to  "move  on."  If 
they  must  move,  the  Judge  lets  boys  go,  but  he 
expects  them  to  call  on  him  to  say  good-bye  and 
be  pledged  to  write  to  him  regularly  and  not  to 
steal.  Well,  once  when  the  fever  was  coming  upon 
the  Major,  he  called  on  the  Judge.  The  Judge 
urged  the  Major  to  down  the  temptation.  The 
Major  tried,  but  he  couldn't;  he  confessed  that 


n6  UPBUILDERS 

he  was  too  "weak"  to  resist.  Then  the  Judge 
suggested  Golden;  they  would  help  him  there,  all 
right,  to  stay.  The  Major  received  the  sug- 
gestion thoughtfully.  He  raised  objections  which 
the  Judge  answered,  but  they  separated  with- 
out a  decision,  and  the  Judge  says  that  for  a  week 
or  two  he  and  the  Major  weighed  ponderously  the 
mighty  question,  till  in  the  end  the  Major  agreed 
that  perhaps  he'd  better  go  up  to  Golden  and  be 
helped  to  cure  that  moving-about  attack  and 
thus  learn  to  "stay  put."  That's  how  the  Major 
came  to  go  to  Golden,  and  that's  how  he  won  the 
rank  and  title  which  the  "  movin'-about "  world 
had  given  him  as  a  "little  shaver." 

And  that's  the  spirit  in  which  the  Judge  in 
chambers  persuades  boys  to  "snitch  up"  on  them- 
selves and  look  upon  the  reformatory  as  a  help. 
As  they  begin  to  tell  him  things  bit  by  bit,  he 
expresses  no  horror,  only  understanding;  he  sym- 
pathizes with  a  feller.  If  a  kid  describes  how  he 
saw  an  easy  chance  to  steal  and  not  get  caught, 
the  Judge  exclaims:  "Gee,  that  was  a  chance. 
That's  certain.  But  'tain't  square.  Hank."  "  Mis- 
take" after  "mistake"  is  confessed,  "weakness" 
after  "weakness";  no  crimes,  you  understand, 
for  the  kid  and  the  Judge,  they  see  things  through 
the  kid's  eyes,  with  all  the  mitigating  circumstances. 
And  so  they  come  to  discuss  the  question  whether 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  121 

the  kid  can  "cut  it  out."  The  Judge  is  sure  the 
boy  can,  surer  than  the  boy,  but  then,  it*s  up  to 
the  boy,  because  the  boy  has  to  do  the  hard  work 
of  resisting.  The  Judge  can  "only  help;  th' 
feller  has  to  do  the  business  himself."  "Inter- 
est is  everything  in  a  boy's  life,"  the  Judge  says 
sagely.  "If  you  want  his  loyalty,  excite  his 
interest."  Well,  the  game  of  correction  is  inter- 
esting, especially  when  you  are  the  centre  of  the 
game.  It's  one  of  the  most  interesting  games 
"a  feller"  ever  played,  and  the  Judge  has  a  fas- 
cinating way  of  playing  it.  Having  done  some- 
thing wrong,  you  try  to  do  something  that's  right, 
positively  right.  This  is  the  Judge's  great  doc- 
trine. He  calls  it  "overcoming  evil  with  good." 
There's  nothing  "sissy-boy"  about  it.  You  have 
done  an  evil  thing;  you  are  not,  therefore,  bad, 
only  so  much  weakened.  So  you  go  and  do  a 
good  thing.  This  not  only  balances  the  evil; 
it  "strengthens  a  feller." 

Now  then,  a  good  thing  a  feller  can  usually 
do  right  away  is  to  go  out  and  bring  in  some 
other  kids  that  are  "swipin'  things."  You 
mustn't  tell  the  Judge  who  the  other  fellers 
are.  That  would  be  snitching.  But  it's  all 
right  to  get  the  other  fellers  to  come  in  and 
"snitch  up"  on  themselves  just  as  you  have 
"snitched    up"    on    yourself.     That    gets    them 


122  UPBUILDERS 

into  the  game;  helps  them  and,  since  the  more 
fellers  there  are  in  on  it,  the  easier  it  is  for 
you  —  it  helps  you. 

One  of  the  early  cases  in  the  Juvenile  Court 
was  that  of  seven  boys  brought  before  him  by  a 
policeman  who  had  caught  them  wiring  up  signal- 
boxes,  hopping  cars,  stoning  motormen  and  con- 
ductors, and  otherwise  interfering  with  the  traf- 
fic of  the  street  railway.  The  boys  were  either 
tearful  or  sullen,  and  they  denied  the  testimony 
of  the  officer  and  his  witnesses.  The  Judge 
took  them  into  his  chambers.  There  he  cleared 
away  all  ideas  of  punishment,  and  got  down  to 
the  truth.  The  Judge  could  see  that  it  was  fun, 
but  also  he  could  see  that  what  was  fun  for  the 
boys  was  trouble  for  the  conductors  and  motor- 
men;  it  made  life  hard  for  them,  delayed  them, 
and  got  them  home  late.  The  boys  hadn't  thought 
before  of  these  railroad  men  as  human  beings, 
only  as  "fair  game,"  as  "fellers  what*d  give  you  a 
chase  if  you  held  'em  up."  So  the  Judge  gave 
the  boys  a  good  view  of  the  men's  side  of  the  fun, 
then  he  said: 

"  'Tain't  fair,  is  it,  fellers  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  cuttin*  it  out  ?" 

They  agreed.  But  there  was  more  for  these 
boys  to  do  than  simply  to  quit  themsehes.    There 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  123 

was  an  evil  deed  done  to  be  overcome  with  good. 
There  was  the  gang. 

"Will  you  fellers  bring  in  the  rest  of  the  gang 
to-morrow  ? " 

"Sure  they  would."  But  they  didn't.  The 
seven  turned  up  the  next  day  without  their 
"crowd." 

"The  other  fellers  was  askeared  to  come,"  they 
reported. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  .? "  the  Judge 
asked  the  seven. 

They  believed  that  if  the  Judge  would  write  a 
letter  to  the  gang,  they  would  come. 

"A  warrant,"  said  the  Judge,  seizing  the  chance 
to  take  the  terror  out  of  another  instrument  of 
the  Law.  "  FU  write  you  out  a  warrant,  and  you 
shall  serve  it  on  the  gang.    But  what'll  I  write  .? " 

One  little  fellow  spoke  up.  "You  begin  it," 
he  said;  "begin  by  saying,  *No  kid  has  snitched, 
but  if  you'll  come,  the  Judge'U  give  you  a  square 
deal.'" 

This  showed  what  the  matter  was,  and  it  brought 
home  to  the  Judge  the  force  of  his  own  feeling 
against  snitching. 

The  Judge  began  the  "warrant"  as  the  little 
fellow  suggested,  and  thus  he  ended  it,  too.  The 
boys  took  it,  and  evidently  they  served  it,  for  the 
next  day  the  gang  came  pouring  into  the  court. 


124  UPBUILDERS 

fifty-two  kids.  There  was  a  talk,  straight  talk, 
like  that  which  he  gave  the  seven.  Only  the 
Judge  put  more  faith  into  it.  He  was  going 
to  see  if  they  couldn't  get  along  out  where  that 
gang  lived  without  any  policemen.  The  peace 
of  the  neighbourhood  was  to  be  left  to  the  gang, 
but  the  gang  had  to  play  fair,  and  give  him  a 
square  deal. 

**For,"  said  the  Judge,  making  a  personal 
appeal  to  their  honour,  "I  have  told  the  com- 
pany that  I  would  be  responsible  for  their  having 
no  more  trouble.  The  company  don't  trust  you 
kids;  and  they  say  I'll  be  fooled.  They  said  you'd 
go  back  on  me.  But  I  said  you  wouldn't,  and  I 
say  now  that  you  won't.  So  I'm  depending  on 
you  fellers;  and  I  don't  believe  you'll  throw  me 
down.     What  do  you  say  ^ " 

"We'll  stay  wit'  you,  Jedge,"  they  shouted. 
And  they  didn't  throw  the  Judge  down.  They 
organized,  then  and  there,  a  Kid  Citizens'  League, 
and  the  League  played  square  with  the  Judge. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  Lindsey  made  effective 
use  in  this  case  of  the  "gang"  which  the  police 
and  all  prematurely  old  reformers  seek  only  to 
"break  up."  The  "kids'  Jedge"  never  thought 
of  breaking  up  such  organizations.  His  sense 
is  for  essentials,  instinctively,  and  there's  nothing 
wrong  about  gangs  as  such.     They  are  as  natural 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  125 

as  organizations  of  men.  The  only  trouble  with 
gangs  is  that  they  absorb  all  the  loyalty  of  the 
members,  turning  them  from  and  often  against 
the  home,  the  Law,  and  the  State.  But  that 
happens  in  grown-ups'  gangs,  too.  Railroad  and 
other  corporations  are  gangs  which,  in  the  interest 
of  their  "  business,"  corrupt  the  State.  Churches 
are  "gangs"  whose  members  submit  to  evils 
because,  if  they  fought  them,  the  church  might  be 
hurt.  So  with  universities,  and  newspapers,  and 
all  kinds  of  business  organizations.  Tammany 
Hall  is  only  a  gang  which,  absorbing  the  loyalty 
of  its  members,  turns  it,  for  the  good  of  the 
gang,  against  the  welfare  of  the  city.  Judge 
Lindsey  simply  taught  the  members  of  his  kid 
gang  what  many  gangs  of  grown-ups  have  to 
learn,  that  they  are  citizens  also,  and  he 
turned  the  loyalty  of  the  Kid  Citizens'  League 
back  to  the  city,  using  the  honour  of  the  gang 
as  his  lever. 

Another  similar  case  came  up  when  two  boys 
were  brought  in  by  a  policeman  from  the  Union 
Station.  The  policeman  said  they  belonged  to 
a  gang  the  members  of  which  stoned  him  wherever 
they  saw  him.  Why  ?  Well,  he  was  trying  to 
keep  them  out  of  the  station  and  off  the  grass 
around  the  station.  What  were  the  boys  doing 
at  the  station  and  on  the  station  lawn  ?    They 


126  UPBUILDERS 

explained,  and  they  explained  with  many  mani- 
festations of  hate  for  the  cop.  They  were  there 
to  sell  papers.  It  was  their  place  of  business, 
and  everybody  had  acknowledged  it  —  not  only 
all  the  other  newsboys,  but  everybody  else — till, 
one  day,  some  other  bigger  boys  with  red  caps 
appeared  there  selling  papers  and  things.  Then 
"this  cop  chased  us  off."  Why  .^  Why  had  the 
cop  suddenly  interfered  with  their  business  I  It 
was  his  turn  to  explain,  and  he  explained  that  the 
railroad  company,  having  come  to  realize  that  the 
trade  in  newspapers  at  the  station  was  profitable, 
had  decided  to  take  a  share  in  it.  The  con- 
cession was  let  to  a  man  who  employed  the  boys 
with  red  caps.  The  man  wanted  a  monopoly. 
So  the  policeman  had  received  orders  to  drive  off 
the  other  boys.  He  had  obeyed.  No  explana- 
tion wa§  given  to  the  boys;  no  notice.  They  sud- 
denly found  themselves  deprived  of  their  means 
of  livelihood,  and  resenting  it,  blamed  the  cop 
and  —  stoned  him. 

Thus  it  was  all  a  misunderstanding,  not  a 
"crime"  at  all,  and  the  Judge  undertook  to  clear 
it  up  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  concerned.  Hav- 
ing explained  it  to  the  two  boys  under  arrest,  he 
enlisted  their  services  in  behalf  of  the  Court  to 
bring  in  the  others  who  were  "in  it"  but  had  not 
been  caught.     The  policeman,  knowing  how  hard 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  127 

It  had  been  to  catch  two,  was  scornful  of  the 
Judge's  confidence  of  getting  the  rest,  but  he  was 
invited  to  be  present  at  the  hour  appointed  for  the 
"round  up,"  and  he  was  not  a  little  chagrined 
when  his  two  prisoners  returned  with  twenty- 
four  other  kids.  The  Judge  lined  up  the  gang 
on  one  side  of  the  room,  the  policeman  and  his 
friends  on  the  other.  This  was  the  Juvenile 
Court  in  session;  let  the  Judge  describe  what 
happened:* 

"I  proceeded  to  explain  why  it  was  that  the 
owners  of  the  station  had  a  right  to  grant  'con- 
cessions' to  the  man  who  employed  the  boys 
with  the  red  caps  to  sell  papers  and  carry  bag- 
gage to  the  exclusion  of  all  others;  why,  if  the 
company  demanded  it,  they  had  a  right  to  pro- 
tection for  their  lawn;  how  all  of  this  was  justi- 
fied by  the  Law,  which  secured  the  right  of  every 
man  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  property;  how  it 
was  not  the  officer's  doings,  but  the  Law  that 
required  him  to  perform  his  duty;  how,  therefore, 
they  had  no  real  grievance  against  the  police- 
man —  rather  their  sympathies  should  be  with 
him.  After  the  sympathetic  admission  by  both 
the  officer  and  the  Court  that  if  it  were  our  station 
and  grounds  all  boys  could  play  on  the  grass  and 
sell  papers  there,  there  was  gained  for  the  police- 
man sympathy  and  loyalty.     As  *  little  citizens,' 


128  UPBUILDERS 

interested  in  a  *  decent  town  of  decent  kids,'  they 
agreed  not  only  to  'keep  off'  and  *keep  out'  them- 
selves, but  to  keep  other  boys  out;  and  everyone 
agreed  *on  the  square'  that  he  would  give  any 
kid  there  leave  to  *  snitch'  to  me,  if  any  boy  broke 
his  word  and  was  not  square.  Thus  harmony 
was  established  between  their  world  and  ours, 
and  we  all  pulled  together  one  way." 

As  the  Judge  remarked  to  me,  those  boys  did 
what  few  men  would  do;  they  gave  up  their  busi- 
ness "just  because  it  was  right."  All  that  was 
necessary  was  to  make  them  understand  the  right 
and  their  duties,  and  then  to  interest  them  in  the 
"game  of  correction." 

The  arena  for  the  great  game  of  correction  is 
the  Court  of  Probation.  Held  every  other  Satur- 
day forenoon,  it  is  a  picturesque  and  a  very  pleas- 
ant spectacle.  All  the  "bad"  boys  in  town  who 
have  been  caught  committing  mistakes  or  who 
have  "snitched  up"  on  themselves,  assemble 
there  to  report.  It  isn't  new.  Like  the  Juvenile 
Court  itself,  the  "method"  of  putting  children 
on  probation  did  not  originate  with  Judge  Lind- 
sey.  Yet  he  discovered  it  himself.  As  I  quote 
him  as  saying  above,  he  didn't  know  about  such 
things.  When  he  went  first  to  the  home  of  the 
"cave-dweller"  to  investigate,  he  was  performing 
one  function  of  a  probation  officer;  and  when  he 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  129 

went  there  again  and  again,  he  was  holding  a 
court  of  probation.  So  with  the  three  pigeon 
burglars  and  their  gang;  he  went  to  see  them, 
but  there  was  no  method  as  yet.  It  was  only  as 
the  cases  grew  that  the  Judge  had  to  ask  the 
boys  to  come  to  see  him,  and  then,  finally,  to 
appoint  a  time  and  place  where  most  of  the  boys 
could  meet  all  together  with  him;  and  that  was 
the  origin  of  Judge  Lindsey's  Court  of  Probation, 
the  institution. 

But  there  is  more  than  that  to  the  story  of  it. 
The  Judge  feels  that  he  suffered  as  "  a  little  shaver" 
from  lack  of  approbation.  He  was  born  in  Ten- 
nessee and  his  family,  well-to-do  Southern  people, 
were  brought  to  trouble  and  to  Denver  by 
the  War.  His  father  died,  and  Ben  had  to  work 
hard  as  a  boy.  For  a  long  time  he  had  three 
jobs:  he  carried  newspapers  in  the  early  morn- 
ing; worked  all  day  in  a  lawyer's  office;  and, 
after  hours,  served  as  janitor.  Always  slight  of 
build,  he  was  often  worn  out;  and  nobody  appre- 
ciated it.  He  was  only  doing  his  duty,  and  it 
nearly  killed  him  —  literally.  He  sank  under 
his  load  to  the  very  verge  of  despair;  and  he  learned 
the  value  of  a  kind  word  of  sympathy  and  good 
cheer. 

Many  of  the  bad  boys  who  came  to  his  court 
were  lonely  little  fellows.     They  had  no  home  and 


130  UPBUILDERS 

no  friends,  and  he  found  in  their  hearts  a  long- 
ing which  he  knew  all  about.  He  gave  them  the 
sympathetic  hearing  and  the  kind  word  he  had 
wanted,  and  "they  drank,"  he  says,  "they  drank 
in  my  friendship  as  if  they  were  famished." 
Right  there  we  have  one  secret  of  his  "hypnotic" 
influence  over  children.  The  Judge  is  proud  now 
of  the  fact  that  he  has  made  himself  a  friend  of 
every  boy  in  town,  or,  at  least,  of  every  "feller 
that  needs  a  friend,"  and  he  will  tell  you  the 
philosophy  and  the  use  of  his  method  if  you  care 
to  listen.  He  will  tell  you  how  he  learned  from 
the  gangs  that  the  members  thereof  did  bad  things 
largely  because  some  big  fellow,  who  was  bad, 
or  some  leader  of  their  own,  suggested  to  them 
evil  and  praised  them  for  its  accomplishment. 
He  will  reason  it  all  out  for  you,  now,  if  you  wish, 
showing  how  by  his  method  he  has  put  himself 
in  the  place  of  the  big  fellow;  made  himself  the 
fountain  of  praise,  the  source  of  approbation, 
"the  feller"  for  whose  good  words  kids  do  good 
things  now.  In  short,  Ben  Lindsey  is  the  actual 
leader  of  most  of  the  gangs  of  Denver.  And  the 
loyalty  which  the  boys  give  to  him,  he  is  giving 
back  to  the  State. 

All  this,  however,  is  but  the  unforeseen  result 
of  this  kind  man's  native  sweetness  and  strength. 
The  only  definitely  thought-out  method  is  that 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  131 

of  having  the  boys  bring  reports  from  the  schools. 
"If  you  want  a  boy*s  loyalty,  excite  his  interest." 
It  was  easy  enough  for  the  Judge  to  excite  the 
boy's  interest;  the  problem  was  to  keep  it.  In 
the  early  history  of  the  court,  before  the  new  laws, 
he  had  no  probation  officers  to  follow  up  his  cases, 
and  since  there  was  too  much  for  him  to  do,  he 
bethought  him  of  the  school  teachers.  The  Judge 
has  always  been  clear  on  the  point  that  his  Juve- 
nile G^urt  is  merely  supplementary,  that  the  home 
and  the  school  are  the  places  where  juvenile  char- 
acter should  be  moulded,  and  that  he  had  to  do 
only  with  those  children  who,  for  some  reason, 
were  not  successfully  treated  in  the  regular  way. 
Thus  he  was  helping  the  teachers,  and  since  he 
needed  help,  he  went  to  the  teachers  for  it,  and 
he  got  it.  The  school  teachers  of  Denver  have 
been  his  mainstay.  All  that  the  Judge  required 
of  the  teachers  was  a  report  as  to  how  the  boys  in 
his  Court  of  Probation  were  doing  in  deportment 
and  studies. 

"What  I  was  after,"  the  Judge  explained, 
"was  something  for  which  I  could  praise  the  boy 
in  open  court.  Believing  in  approbation  as  an 
incentive,  I  had  to  have  their  reports  for  the  boy 
to  show  me,  in  order  that  I  might  have  a  basis 
for  encouraging  comment,  or,  if  the  reports  were 
not   up   to   the   mark,   for   sympathy.     It   didn't 


132  UPBUILDERS 

matter  to  me  very  much  what  the  reports  were 
about.  Some  of  the  teachers  couldn't  see  at  first 
why  they  should  report  on  the  scholarship  of  a 
boy  who  was  good  at  school  and  bad  —  a  thief, 
perhaps  —  out  of  school.  But  you  can  see  that 
these  fortnightly  reports  were  an  excuse  for  keep- 
ing up  my  friendly  relationship  with  the  boy, 
holding  his  loyalty,  and  maintaining  our  com- 
mon interest  in  the  game  of  correction  he  and 
I  were  playing  together.  Since  we  had  a  truancy 
law,  the  teachers  were  in  touch  and  thus  could 
keep  me  in  touch  with  every  boy  under  school  age 
in  the  city,  and  their  reports  were  my  excuse  for 
praise  or  appeal." 

Judge  Lindsey's  Court  of  Probation  is  thus  a 
Court  of  Approbation.  It  serves  other  purposes; 
indeed,  it  is  everything  to  the  boys  of  Den- 
ver. It  is  the  State,  the  Law,  and  Justice;  it  is 
Home,  School,  Club,  and  Society;  it  is  Friend- 
ship, Success,  and  the  scene  of  Triumphs;  it  is 
the  place  also  where  Failure  goes  for  Help 
and  for  Hope  renewed.  It  is  all  that  Judge 
Lindsey  is;  all  that  he  means  to  the  minds  of 
the  boys.  For  the  Judge's  personality  makes  it, 
his  and  the  boys',  and  they  made  it  up  out  of 
their  own  needs. 

The  boys  assemble  early,  two  or  three  hun- 
dred of  them,  of  all  ages  and  all  sorts,  "small 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  133 

kids"  and  "big  fellers";  well-dressed  "lads" 
and  ragged  "little  shavers";  burglars  who  have 
entered  a  store,  and  burglars  who  have  "robbed 
back"  pigeons;  thieves  who  have  stolen  bicycles, 
and  thieves  who  have  "swiped"  papers;  "toughs" 
who  have  "sassed"  a  cop  or  stoned  a  conductor, 
and  boys  who  have  talked  bad  language  to  little 
girls,  or  who  "hate  their  father,"  or  who  have 
been  backward  at  school  and  played  hookey 
because  the  teacher  doesn't  like  them.  It  isn't 
generally  known,  and  the  Judge  rarely  tells  just 
what  a  boy  has  done;  the  deed  doesn't  matter, 
you  know,  only  the  boy,  and  all  boys  look  pretty 
much  alike  to  the  Judge  and  to  the  boys.  So 
they  all  come  together  there,  except  that  boys 
who  work,  and  newsboys,  when  there's  an  extra 
out,  are  excused  to  come  at  another  time.  But 
nine  o'clock  Saturday  morning  finds  most  of  the 
"fellers"  in  their  seats,  looking  as  clean  as  pos- 
sible, and  happy. 

The  Judge  comes  in  and,  passing  the  bench, 
which  looms  up  empty  and  useless  behind  him, 
he  takes  his  place,  leaning  against  the  clerk's 
table  or  sitting  on  a  camp-chair. 

"Boys,"  he  begins,  "last  time  I  told  you  about 
Kid  Dawson  and  some  other  boys  who  used  to  be 
with  us  here  and  who  'made  good.'  To-day 
I've  got  a  letter  from  the  Kid.     He's  in  Oregon, 


134  UPBUILDERS 

and  he's  doing  well.  I'll  read  you  what  he  says 
about  himself  and  his  new  job." 

And  he  reads  the  letter,  which  is  full  of  details 
roughly  set  in  a  general  feeling  of  encouragement 
and  self-confidence. 

"Fine,  isn't  it!"  the  Judge  says.  "Kid  Daw- 
son had  a  mighty  hard  time  with  himself  for 
awhile,  but  you  can  see  he's  got  his  hand  on  his 
throttle  now.  Well,  let's  see.  The  last  time, 
I  talked  about  snitching,  didn't  I .?  To-day 
I'm  going  to  talk  about  *  ditching. ' "  And  he  is  off 
on  the  address,  with  which  he  opens  court.  His 
topics  are  always  interesting  to  boys,  for  he 
handles  his  subjects  boy-fashion.  "Snitching," 
the  favourite  theme,  deals  with  the  difference 
between  "snitching,"  which  is  telling  on  another 
boy  to  hurt  him;  and  "snitching  on  the  square," 
which  is  intended  to  help  the  other  fellow.  "  Ditch- 
ing" is  another  popular  subject.  "To  ditch"  a 
thing  is  to  throw  it  away;  and  the  Judge,  starting 
off  with  stories  of  boys  who  have  ditched  their 
commitment  papers,  proceeds  to  tell  about  others 
who,  "like  Kid  Dawson  out  there  in  Oregon," 
have  "ditched"  their  bad  habits  and  "got  strong." 
I  heard  him  on  Arbor  Day  speak  on  trees;  how 
they  grew,  some  straight,  some  crooked.  There's 
always  a  moral  in  these  talks,  but  the  Judge 
makes  it  plain  and  blunt;  he  doesn't  "rub  it  in." 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  135 

After  the  address,  which  is  never  long,  the 
boys  are  called  up  by  schools.  Each  boy  is  greeted 
by  himself,  but  the  Judge  uses  only  his  given  or 
nickname.  "The  boys  from  the  Arapahoe 
Street  School,"  he  calls,  and,  as  the  group  comes 
forward,  the  Judge  reaches  out  and  seizing 
one  by  the  shoulder,  pulls  him  up  to  him,  saying: 

"Skinny,  you've  been  doing  fine  lately;  had  a 
cracker  jack  report  every  time.  I  just  want  to 
see  if  you  have  kept  it  up.  Bet  you  have.  Let's 
see."  He  opens  the  report.  "And  you  have. 
That's  great.  Shake,  Skin.  You're  all  right, 
you  are."     Skinny  shines. 

Pointing  at  another,  he  says:  "And  you.  Mumps, 
you  got  only  *fair'  last  time.  What  you  got  this 
time  ?  You  promised  me  *  excellent,'  and  I  know 
you've  made  good."  He  tears  open  the  envelope. 
"Sure,"  he  says.  "You've  done  it.  Bully  for 
you."  Turning  to  the  room,  he  tells  "the  fellers" 
how  Mumps  began  playing  hookey,  and  was  so 
weak  he  simply  thought  he  couldn't  stay  in  school. 
"He  blamed  the  teacher;  said  she  was  down  on 
him.  She  wasn't  at  all.  He  was  just  weak. 
Mumps  was;  had  no  backbone  at  all.  But  look 
at  him  now.  He's  bracing  right  up.  You  watch 
Mumps.  He's  the  *  stuff,'  Mumps  is.  Aren't 
you,  Mumps  ?  Teacher  likes  you  now  all  right, 
doesn't  she  ?     Yes.     And  she  tells  me  she  does. 


136  UPBUILDERS 

Go  on  now  and  keep  it  up.  Mumps.  I  believe 
in  you." 

"Why,  Eddie,"  the  Judge  says,  as  another  boy 
comes  up  crying.  "What  are  you  crying  for? 
Haven't  you  made  good  I  " 

"No,  sir,"  Eddie  says,  weeping  the  harder. 

"Well,  I  told  you  I  thought  you'd  better  go  to 
Golden.  You  don't  want  to  go,  eh .?  Get  an- 
other job,  you  say  ?  But  you  can't  keep  it,  Eddie. 
You  know  you  can't.  Give  you  another  chance  ? 
What's  the  use,  Eddie.?  You'll  lose  it.  The 
best  thing  for  you,  Eddie,  is  Golden.  They'll 
help  you  up  there,  make  you  stick  to  things,  just 
make  you;  and  so  you'll  get  strong." 

Eddie  swims  in  tears,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
I'd  have  to  give  that  boy  "another  chance,"  but 
the  Judge,  who  is  called  "easy,"  was  not  moved 
at  all.  His  mind  was  on  the  good  of  that  boy; 
not  on  his  own  feelings,  nor  yet  on  the  boy's. 
"You  see,"  said  he  to  me,  "he  is  hysterical,  abnor- 
mal. The  discipline  of  Golden  is  just  what  he 
needs."     And  he  turned  to  the  room  full  of  boys. 

"  Boys,"  he  said,  "  I'm  going  to  send  Eddie  up 
to  Golden.  He  hasn't  done  wrong;  not  a  thing. 
But  he's  weak.  He  and  I  have  tried  again  and 
again  to  win  out  down  here  in  the  city,  and  he 
wants  another  trial.  But  I  think  a  year  or  so  at 
Golden  will  brace  Eddie  right  up,  and  make  him 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  137 

a  strong,  manly  fellow.  He's  not  going  up  there 
to  be  punished.  That  isn't  what  Eddie  needs, 
and  that  isn't  what  Golden  is  for.     Is  it,  fellers  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  the  room  shouted. 

"It  would  be  unjust  to  punish  Eddie,  but 
Eddie  understands  that.     Don't  you,  Eddie  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but"  (blubbering),  "Judge,  I  think 
if  I  only  had  one  more  show  I  could  do  all  right." 

"Eddie,  you're  wrong  about  that.  I'm  sure 
I'm  right.  I'm  sure  that  after  a  year  or  two  you'll 
be  glad  I  sent  you  to  the  school.  And  I'll  be  up 
there  in  a  few  days  to  see  you,  Eddie,  myself. 
What's  more,  I  know  some  boys  up  there  — 
friends  of  mine,  that'll  help  you,  Eddie;  be  friends 
to  you.  They  won't  want  to  like  a  kid  that  cries, 
but  I'll  tell  'em  you  need  friends  to  strengthen 
you,  and  they'll  stay  with  you." 

All  forenoon  this  goes  on,  the  boys  coming  up 
in  groups  to  be  treated  each  one  by  himself.  He 
is  known  to  the  Court,  well  known,  and  the  Judge, 
his  personal  friend,  and  the  officers  of  the  Court 
and  the  spectators,  his  fellow-clubmen,  all  rejoice 
with  him,  if  he  is  "making  good,"  and  if  he  is 
doing  badly,  they  are  sorry.  And  in  that  case, 
he  may  be  invited  to  a  private  talk  with  the  Judge, 
a  talk,  mind  you,  which  has  no  terrors  for  the 
boy,  only  comfort.  They  often  seek  such  inter- 
views voluntarily.     They  sneak  into  the  Judge's 


13S  UPBUILDERS 

chambers  or  call  at  his  house  to  "snitch  up'* 
that  they  are  not  doing  well.  And  the  boys  who 
sit  there  and  see  this  every  two  weeks,  or  hear  all 
about  it,  they  not  only  have  forgotten  all  their 
old  fear  of  the  Law;  they  go  to  the  Court  now  as 
to  a  friend,  they  and  their  friends.  For  Judge 
Lindsey  had  not  been  doing  "  kid  justice  to  kids  " 
very  long  before  all  Boyville  knew  it.  The 
rumour  spread  like  wildfire.  The  boys  * 'snitched'* 
on  the  Judge,  "snitched  on  the  square";  they 
told  one  another  that  the  County  Judge  was  all 
right. 

The  Judge  tells  many  stories  to  illustrate  the 
change  that  followed.  Once  as  he  approached 
a  group  of  boys,  one  of  them  said:  "There's  th' 
Jedge,  fellers,"  and  two  kids  dived  down  an 
alley.     The  others  gathered   around  the  Judge. 

"Who  were  those  boys  that  ran  away?"  he 
asked. 

"Who.?  Them.?  Oh,"  came  the  answer, 
"they're  kids  from  K.  C."  (Kansas  City);  "they 
ain't  on  to  the  game  here." 

Another  time  the  Judge  was  walking  along  the 
street  arguing  with  me  that  stealing  isn't  a 
heinous  crime  in  a  boy,  and  that  it  shouldn't 
be  treated  with  holy  horror.  Most  boys  swipe 
something  at  one  time  or  another;  and  to  prove 
his  point,  he  halted  before  a  "gang." 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  139 

"Say,  kids,"  he  said,  and,  as  they  looked  up, 
he  asked :  "  how  many  of  you  fellers  have  swiped 
things  ? " 

Every  boy's  hand  shot  up  in  the  air.  The 
Judge  had  proved  his  point,  but  he  had  proved 
also  another  thing.  Those  boys  knew  he  was 
the  Judge,  yet  they  were  not  afraid  to  tell  the  truth. 
Or,  to  state  the  situation  more  completely:  those 
boys  knew  he  was  the  Judge  and  therefore  they 
were  not  afraid  to  tell  him  the  truth.  Not  all 
these  boys  had  been  in  his  Court;  in  fact,  only  one 
or  two  had;  but  that  didn't  matter.  All  the  boys 
of  Denver  know  of  the  Judge,  and  what  they  know 
of  him  is  that  though  he  represents  the  Law  and 
the  State,  he  is  "all  right." 

One  afternoon,  a  boy  of  about  ten  years  stuck 
his  head  into  the  door  of  the  Judge's  private 
room. 

"  Is  the  Judge  in  } "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Is  this  him?"  the  boy  asked. 

"Yes,  my  boy.     I'm  the  Judge." 

"Well,  I'm  Johnny  Rosenbaum,  and  I  came 
down  here  to  see  you." 

"Yes .?  I'm  glad  you've  come,  John,  but  what 
did  you  come  for  ? " 

"Well,"  he  said,  "Joe  Rosenthal,  he  used  to 
come  down  here,  and  he  *  swiped'  things  once. 


I40  UPBUILDERS 

And  I  'swiped'  something,  and  he  said  I  better 
come  down  here  and  see  you  about  it." 

"All  right,  but  what  have  you  come  to  me  about 
it  for  ? " 

The  tears  started.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  came 
down  here  to  tell  you  Vd  cut  it  out  and  never  do 
it  again.  And  I  thought  I  better  get  here  before 
the  cop  did.  Joe  said  the  cop  'ud  ditch  a  kid  that 
swiped  things,  but  that  you'd  help  a  feller  to 
ditch  the  swipin'." 

"Yes,  I'll  help  you  ditch  swipin',  but  you're 
a  mighty  little  boy;  how  did  you  find  the  way 
down  here  alone  ? " 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "'most  every  kid  I  seed  knew 
about  it,  and  they  passed  me  down  th'  line  to 
here." 

Johnny  Rosenbaum  was  put  on  probation,  and 
he  began  overcoming  evil  with  good,  as  he  proved 
one  day  in  court.  Sometimes  the  Judge  will  turn 
to  the  boys  and  ask  whether  any  feller  has  done  that 
week  a  thing  good  enough  to  make  up  for  an  evil 
thing  done  before.  Once,  when  he  asked  this 
question,  Johnny  rose  and  said : 

"  Judge,  some  of  the  kids  I  run  with  was  diggin' 
a  cave,  and  we  wanted  a  shovel,  and  they  said: 
'Let's  go  and  swipe  one.'  So  they  wanted  to  put 
me  into  Mr.  Putnam's  barn  where  the  shovel 
was,  through  a  little  hole  that  nobody  but  a  little 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  141 

kid  could  crawl  through.  And  I  says,  *No,  I 
gotter  report  down  to  th'  Judge,  and  I  told  him 
that  Fd  cut  out  swipin'  and  when  I  got  a  chanct 
Vd  do  a  good  thing.  Now  is  my  chanct,'  I  says. 
*  I  won't  swipe  th'  shovel,'  I  says,  *  and  you  mustn't,' 
I  says  to  them.  Now  I  ain't  goin'  to  snitch  on 
who  the  fellers  was  because  they  says  *A11  right, 
we  won't  swipe  the  shovel.'  And  I  went  'round 
and  I  ast  Mr.  Putnam  to  borrow  us  the  shovel, 
and  he  said  he  would.  So  we  got  the  shovel  on 
th'  square.  But,  Judge,  if  I  hadn't  done  that 
they  would  have  swiped  the  shovel,  wouldn't 
they?" 

"Yes,  John,"  said  the  Judge.  "They  would 
have  swiped  the  shovel,  and  if  you  ever  swiped 
anything  in  your  life,  you  have  more  than  made 
up  for  it  by  doing  the  right  thing  this  time." 

Another  case  of  "making  good"  was  that  of 
Eli  Carson.  Eli  told  at  a  meeting  how  his  news 
gang  down  in  the  Post  alley  were  going  to  "  swipe 
a  box  of  cherries  oflF'n  Wolf  Londoner's  grocery 
store."  "I  says  it  wasn't  square,"  said  Eli, 
"and  the  other  kids,  they  all  allowed  it  wasn't 
either.  Texas  was  th'  kid  that  said  first  to  swipe 
th'  cherries;  and  he  thought  afterwards  it  was  best 
not  to  do  it.  And  I  wanted  to  tell  you.  Judge, 
that  I  had  done  a  good  thing,  but  Texas  he  didn't 
want  me  to.     But  by  and  by  Texas  changed  his 


142  UPBUILDERS 

mind,  and  says  I  could  tell  you.  So  I'm  not 
snitch  in',  am  I  ? " 

"An  experience  like  that,"  the  Judge  said  by 
way  of  comment,  "goes  to  show  that  my  theory 
is  correct,  that  all  we  need  is  an  influence  for 
good  to  counteract  the  influence  for  bad  of  the 
gang.  For  Texas  is  a  well-known  newsboy,  and 
had  Eli  not  been  a  member  of  our  gang,  coming  to 
Court  where  he  could  tell  his  experiences  in  the 
presence  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  other  boys, 
and  be  praised,  why,  then,  Eli  would  have  wanted 
to  please  Texas.  As  it  is,  he  wants  to  please  me 
and  the  Court  gang;  and  Texas  does,  too." 

Another  instance  of  faith  in  the  Court:  The 
Judge  had  been  trying  a  case  all  day.  It  was  a 
grown-up  case,  difficult  and  slow,  and  when  the 
adjournment  came  late,  at  six  o'clock,  the  Judge 
was  tired.  As  the  court  room  cleared,  however, 
he  saw  a  child  in  a  back  seat.  "  He  was  so  small," 
the  Judge  says,  "that  I  thought  someone  must 
have  gone  off  and  forgotten  him,  and  I  told  *  Uncle 
John'  Murrey  (the  bailiff)  to  find  out  whose  child 
it  was.  But  when  Uncle  John  spoke  to  him,  the 
little  fellow  got  up,  and  I  saw  he  was  almost  ten 
years  old.  I  called  him  up  to  the  bench,  and  he 
came,  and  when  he  reached  me  he  dropped  his 
head  on  my  shoulder  and  began  to  sob. 

"Judge,"    he    said,    "I'm    Clifford,    and    my 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  143 

mamma  don't  live  here,  and  I  stay  with  my  aunt 

down  on  Street,  so  I  been  swipin'  things, 

I  have,  and  I  come  here  to  *cut  it  out.'"  As 
the  tears  flowed  more  abundantly,  he  said  he 
was  sorry  and  would  never  do  it  again  if  the 
Judge  would  "give  him  a  show,"  as  he  had  another 
boy  he  named.  The  Judge  took  the  little  fellow 
back  in  his  chambers;  they  had  a  long  talk,  and 
the  boy,  put  on  probation,  reported  regularly 
and  well.  "He  turned  out  to  be  a  splendid  boy," 
the  Judge  says. 

But  the  best  example  the  Judge  gives  of  the 
difference  in  results  between  the  old  criminal 
court  system  of  vengeance  and  fear  and  the  new 
method  of  friendship  and  service,  is  a  story  he  tells 
of  two  brothers.  "Both  were  wayward,"  he 
says.  "The  older  was  brought  to  the  criminal 
court  for  some  boyish  offence  in  the  days  before 
the  establishment  of  the  Juvenile  Court.  He 
was  flung  into  a  filthy  jail  and  herded  with  men 
and  women,  where  he  heard  and  saw  vile  and 
obscene  things.  He  was  dragged  into  court  by 
an  officer  and  put  through  the  police  court  mill. 
He  was  only  a  little  boy.  He  had  been  sinned 
against  long  before  his  birth.  Both  by  heredity 
and  environment  he  had  been  driven  to  lawless- 
ness. But  the  State  took  no  account  of  this.  It 
had  its  chance  to  make  a  good  man  of  him.     He 


144  UPBUILDERS 

wanted  bread;  the  State  gave  him  a  stone.  It 
branded  him  a  criminal,  made  him  a  criminal. 
It  made  the  pressure  of  evil  upon  him  inexorable. 
To-day  he  is  a  man  and  in  the  penitentiary. 

**The  younger  brother  was  as  wayward  as  the 
elder.  Four  years  ago  he  was  brought  to  the 
Juvenile  Court,  defiant  and  frightened,  just  as 
his  brother  had  been  taken  to  another  tribunal. 
The  policeman  told  me  the  boy  was  a  very  Ananias, 
and  I  replied  that,  given  the  same  conditions,  he 
(the  cop)  would  probably  have  been  the  same, 
and  the  officer  went  away  convinced  that  there 
was  no  use  bringing  the  boys  to  the  Juvenile  Court, 
where  the  Judge  *did  nothing  to  them.'  The 
policeman  would  count  as  nothing  the  many  hours 
during  many  weeks  that  I  laboured  for  that  boy. 
He  told  me  the  truth;  he  convicted  himself,  but  no 
stigma  of  conviction  was  put  upon  him,  and  he 
was  not  punished.  He  was  put  on  probation, 
and  encouraged  to  do  his  best.  He  was  made  to 
feel  that  the  State  was  on  his  side;  that  the  forces 
of  the  Law  were  working  for  him  rather  than 
against  him;  that  the  Court  was  his  friend,  his 
appeal  when  he  was  in  trouble.  And  that  Morris, 
as  I  will  call  him,  did  feel  perfect  faith  in  the  Court 
the  Law,  and  the  State,  he  proved  once  in  an 
amusing  way. 

"One  day  I  was  trying  an  important  will  case. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  145 

Millions  of  dollars  were  involved.  The  door 
opened  cautiously,  and  Morris  poked  his  freckled 
face  in,  piping  up  that  he  wanted  to  see  the  Judge. 
The  bailiff  started  to  shoo  him  away,  but  I  called 
in  the  boy.  I  ordered  a  recess.  No  doubt  the 
distinguished  counsel  were  shocked;  certainly 
they  looked  shocked.  But  a  live  boy  looms  larger 
than  a  dead  man's  millions  to  me,  and  when  this 
boy  came  into  my  Court,  unafraid,  smiling,  and 
sure  of  justice,  I  remembered  the  flash  of  fear  and 
hatred  that  I  once  had  seen  on  this  same  freckled 
face.  So  I  beckoned  Morris  up  to  me,  and  I 
heard  his  case  then  and  there.  He  was  in  busi- 
ness. He  sold  newspapers,  and  his  place  of  busi- 
ness was  a  certain  busy  corner  where  he  dealt 
not  only  with  pedestrians,  but  with  passengers 
on  passing  cars.  The  'old  cop,'  it  seemed,  had 
let  him  *hop  the  cars,'  and  all  had  gone  well  till 
a  new  cop  had  come  there.  The  *new  guy,'  as 
Morris  called  him,  had  ordered  the  boy  off  the 
corner.  *  Thinks  'cause  he's  a  cop  he  owns  the 
whole  town,'  said  Morris,  who  was  losing  about 
fifty  cents  a  day.  The  case  stated,  I  asked  Mor- 
ris what  he  would  have  me  do. 

"Evidently  Morris  had  been  reading,  as  well 
as  selling,  his  newspapers,  for  he  was  ready  with 
his  answer. 

"'Judge,'  he  said,  'can't  you  gimme  one  o' 


146  UPBUILDERS 

them  there  things  they  call  'junctions  against 
de  fly  cop  ?' 

"  I  gave  him  one.  Why  not  ?  I  called  for 
an  injunction  blank,  and  on  it  I  wrote  a  note  to 
the  policeman.  I  told  him  about  Morris;  not 
much,  but  enough  to  make  him  understand  that 
the  boy  was  one  of  my  probationers  who  was  try- 
ing to  *make  good';  that  he  was  bringing  me  good 
reports  from  his  teachers;  and  that  I  hoped  the 
officer  would  give  the  boy  all  the  leeway  possible. 
To  the  boy  I  explained  that  the  officer  repre- 
sented the  Law,  as  I  did,  and  must  be  respected 
accordingly.  Morris  went  away  gleefully  with 
his  writ." 

And  the  writ  "worked."  The  Judge  says 
that  the  next  time  he  saw  Morris,  he  asked  the 
boy  about  it.  Morris  said  he  had  "served  it  all 
right." 

"An*  say,  Judge,"  he  said,  "  it  worked  fine.  De 
cop  liked  to  'a'  dropped  dead  when  he  read  it. 
He  tinks  I  got  a  pull  wit'  de  Court,  so  he  wants 
to  be  my  friend.  And  I  don't  know  but  I'll  let 
him  in."  The  Judge  spoke  for  the  cop.  He 
told  Morris  he  must  be  a  friend  of  the  policeman, 
and  the  boy  reported  later  that  he  had  "let  the 
cop  in."  And  he  had.  The  Judge  learned  that 
they  became  good  friends. 

In  his  comment  on  this  incident,  the  Judge 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  147 

attributes  the  difference  between  Morris  and  his 
brother  to  one  thing:  "opportunity."  "The 
State,"  he  says,  "surroun'ded  the  boy  who  is  in 
the  penitentiary  with  everything  to  make  him  do 
evil;  hence  the  State  must  support  him  now  in  the 
penitentiary.  The  State  surrounded  Morris  with 
every  influence  to  make  him  do  right;  hence  he  is 
growing  up  a  good  citizen  who  will  support  the 
State."  There  is  a  great  difference  there.  But 
I  want  to  point  out  another  "difference,"  a 
"method"  of  the  Judge  to  which  he  does  not  refer 
in  anything  he  ever  says  about  the  celebrated 
injunction  case  of  Morris,  the  "bad"  boy,  vs. 
the  new  cop  on  his  corner.  Recall  what  the 
Judge  wrote  into  that  injunction.  How  did  he 
make  the  policeman  obey  the  writ  which  the  boy 
served  on  him  ?  The  Judge  simply  told  the 
policeman  about  the  boy.  Having  told  the  boy 
about  the  cop,  he  related  enough  of  the  history  of 
the  newsboy  to  get  the  cop  interested  in  the  boy 
and  in  the  game  of  correction  which  he  and  the 
boy  were  playing  together.  In  other  words, 
Ben  Lindsey,  the  man  of  heart,  reached  for  the 
heart  of  the  policeman,  and  since  the  heart  is  a 
vital  spot,  it  is  no  wonder  "de  cop  liked  to  'a' 
dropped  dead." 

This,    then,    is    Judge    Lindsey's    "method." 
It  is  an  old  method.     He  didn't  discover  it.     A 


r: 


148  UPBUILDERS 

great  religion  was  founded  on  "faith,  hope,  and 
love'*  once.  That  was  long  ago.  The  only  new 
and  interesting  thing  about  Lindsey's  experi- 
ment is  that  he  finds  that  this  ancient,  neglected 
method  "works" — works,  too,  as  I  said  at  the 
outset,  with  grown-ups  as  well  as  with  children, 
with  cops  as  well  as  with  kids.  It  has  won  his 
fight  for  him.  Yes,  he  fights.  The  kids'  Judge 
has  had  to  fight,  and,  as  we  shall  see,  he  has 
fought.  The  fight  isn't  finished  yet.  The  "bad" 
men  of  Colorado  haven't  been  taught  by  their 
State  and  their  courts  to  see  things  as  the  bad  boys 
of  Colorado  are  learning  to  see  them.  They 
also  go  to  the  courts  for  injunctions,  and  some  of 
them  get  their  writs.  Ben  B.  Lindsey  is  a  man 
with  a  man's  fight  for  men  on  his  hands,  and  he 
is  the  kind  of  man  that  finishes  his  fights.  He 
will  win  with  good  men  or  —  he'll  wait  and  win  it 
with  bad  boys.  For  his  bad  boys  will  grow  up 
some  day,  and  they  know  what  the  State  can  be 
to  a  feller  and  that  "there  can  be  no  justice  with- 
out the  love  of  man  for  man." 


II.       WHAT  MAKES  "  BAD  "  CHILDREN  BAD 

If  you   care   to    take   the    measure    of  Chris- 
tian   civilization    in    the    United    States   to-day. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  149 

reflect  for  a  moment  frankly  upon  the  meaning 
of  this  fact:  There  is  opposition  to  Judge  Lindsey. 
That  men  like  Heney  and  La  Follette,  Everett 
Colby,  and  (even)  Mark  Pagan,  should  have  to 
fight  for  the  right  to  do  right,  is  significant  enough 
of  the  power  of  evil  among  us;  but  Ben  Lindsey! 
This  man  is  so  just  and  so  gentle;  his  purposes  are 
so  pure,  his  work  is  so  beautiful,  so  successful, 
and  —  you  would  think  —  so  harmless,  that  no 
one  would  expect  to  see  any  man's  hand  raised 
against  the  Judge  of  the  Juvenile  Court  of  Den- 
ver. Callous  souls  might  show  indifference,  but 
why  opposition  ?     And  such  opposition  ? 

The  two  bosses  of  the  two  political  parties  con- 
spired together  once  to  keep  Judge  Lindsey  off 
the  bench.  At  another  time,  some  men  tempted 
him  to  disgrace  with  a  wohnan !  Legislation  is  pro- 
posed (and  has  been  passed)  to  divide  his  Court 
and  thus  Hmit  his  power  as  a  judge  to  serve  the 
children  of  his  county.  Physically  delicate, 
the  only  rest  this  overworked  man  takes  is  when 
he  travels,  as  he  does,  thousands  of  miles  to  tell 
people  what  wonders  "justice  with  love"  has 
done  for  the  "bad  kids"  of  Denver.  This  time- 
off  he  justifies  on  the  ground  that  his  lectures 
further  the  cause  of  the  children  elsewhere,  and 
bring  in  money  to  carry  on  his  plans  for  his  own 
"Court  gang"  at  home;  and  he  spends  thuis  all 


Jcr~, 


50  UPBUILDERS 


C. 


he  makes  from  these  lectures,  and  out  of  the 
;?4,6oo  which  the  county  pays  him,  he  retains 
some  other  judge  to  fill  his  place  while  he  is  away. 
I  ask  the  thousands  of  men  and  women  who  have 
heard  Judge  Lindsey  tell  his  stories  of  boys  and 
girls,  to  consider  what  it  means,  that  powerful 
men  in  Colorado  have  drawn  a  bill  that  shall 
"put  a  stop  to  this  little  whipper-snapper's  run- 
ning around  all  over  the  country  lecturing."  This 
is  hate.  And  the  other  attacks  upon  him  and 
his  work  show  a  deeper-seated  opposition.    Why  ? 

There's  a  reason.  There  are  two  reasons. 
One  is  that  Judge  Lindsey  does  not  confine  him- 
self to  saving  the  children  that  are  "lost  in  crime"; 
he  began  early  to  inquire  into  the  causes  of  juve- 
nile crime.  He  asked  what  made  bad  children 
bad.  That  led  him  to  a  study  of  the  conditions 
of  child-life;  that  led  him  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  typical  environment  of  an  average  Christian 
community  was  such  that  even  little  children  could 
not  be  good;  and  that  led  this  man  to  attack  those 
conditions.  In  other  words.  Judge  Lindsey  has 
sought  not  merely  to  cure  but  to  prevent  the  evils 
of  child-life. 

"Don't  tear  down  all  the  time,"  men  shout 
at  reformers.  "What  we  want  is  reconstructive 
work."  It  was  Lindsey's  "reconstructive  work" 
that  threatened  to  "hurt  business." 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  151 

There  we  have  one  all-sufficient  reason  why 
he  has  to  fight;  but  there's  a  second:  Ben  Lindsey 
does  not  limit  his  labours  to  the  cause  of  the 
children.  He  is  celebrated  for  his  juvenile  sys- 
tem, and  in  Denver  you  hear  that  he  is  "  a  philan- 
thropist, and  if  he  would  stick  to  his  philanthropic 
work,  he  might  go  on  forever."  That's  a  lie. 
But,  as  I  said,  this  man  should  not  be  known  only 
as  the  founder  of  the  Juvenile  Court;  he  is  doing 
a  man's  work  for  men.  The  "kids'  Judge"  of 
Denver  was  elected  as  the  County  Judge  of  Den- 
ver, and  as  such  he  dealt  out  justice  to  bad  men 
as  well  as  to  bad  boys,  and  when  by  accident  one 
day  he  discovered  evidence  of  graft  in  his  Court, 
Judge  Lindsey  forced  the  grafters  to  trial  and  to 
conviction. 

Ben  Lindsey  does  his  duty,  his  whole  duty  as  a 
man,  as  a  citizen,  and  as  a  public  official,  and 
that's  what  makes  him  a  menace  to  Things  As 
They  Are  in  Colorado  and  in  the  United  States. 
Like  Heney,  and  La  FoUette,  and  Colby,  and  (even) 
Mark  Pagan,  Ben  Lindsey  is  up  against  the  Sys- 
tem, and,  therefore,  like  them  and  like  every  hon- 
est man  you  hear  of  in  this  land,  the  just  Judge 
has  to  fight. 

A  large  part  of  the  oppo-sition  to  Judge  Lindsey, 
especially  at  first,  was  honest.  It  was  ignorant, 
but^sincere  and  natural.     For,  you  understand. 


152 


UPBUILDERS 


Lindsay's  methods  are  applied  Christianity.  With- 
out thinking  much  about  it  he  was  putting  into 
practice  in  actual  life,  and,  of  all  places,  in  the 
criminal  courts,  the  doctrine  of  faith,  hope,  and 
charity.  In  a  Christian  community  this  was 
revolutionary  and,  "as  it  was  in  the  beginning," 
caused  a  great  rumpus.  The  Bar  was  shocked. 
When  the  Judge,  searching  the  juvenile  mind  for 
causes  of  juvenile  crime,  saw  fear  of  the  Law 
and  hate  of  the  Court  in  the  eyes  of  the  little  pris- 
oners and,  looking  about  him,  realized  that  there 
was  reason  for  this  dread,  we  have  seen  how  he 
threw  off  authority,  came  down  off  the  bench, 
subordinated  the  machinery  of  justice  to  the  good 
of  the  boy,  and  for  routine  and  vengeance  substi- 
tuted sympathy  and  help.  He  took  the  boys'  view 
of  boys'  "mistakes,"  and  when  he  sent  a  "feller" 
to  the  reform  school  at  Golden,  it  was  only  upon 
his  own  confession  and  for  his  own  good.  The 
boys  understood,  but  the  lawyers  wagged  their 
heads :  the  lawyers,  I  mean,  who  regard  the  Law 
as  a  sacred  Institution.  When  they  saw  a  judge 
who  was  "  a  lawyer,  and  a  good  lawyer,"  sweeping 
aside  technicalities  and  ignoring  "good  prac- 
tice" to  get  at  the  real,  human  interest  of  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar,  they  were  deeply  pained. 
But  the  Judge,  who  understands  men  as  well 
as    he    does   boys,   understood   this   feeling,  and 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  153 

he  was  patient  to  explain,  and,  since  this  was 
an  honest  opposition,  he  overcame  it.  He  tells 
the  story: 

"I  sent  a  boy  to  the  Industrial  School  on  the 
charge  of  *  needing  correction  for  his  own  good.* 
The  boy  had  made  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  me,  and 
we  had  such  a  perfect  understanding,  that  boy 
and  I,  that  he  had  taken  his  commitment  papers 
and  gone  off  by  himself  to  Golden.  Then 
appeared  Counsel  employed  by  his  parents,  de- 
claring that  he  had  been  dealt  with  without  due 
process  of  law,  no  jury  trial,  etc.,  etc.  He  (the 
lawyer)  said  he  would  apply  for  a  writ  of 
habeas  corpus.  I  assured  him  I  could  make  no 
objection,  but  that  the  boy  had  been  guilty  of  two 
or  three  offences  constituting  technical  burglary, 
so  that  while  he  might  be  released  for  the  pur- 
pose of  obtaining  due  process  of  law,  this  pro- 
cess would  not  only  make  the  boy  a  burglar  and 
a  thief,  but  would  return  him,  so  branded  by  the 
records,  to  the  place  whence  he  might  be  brought 
upon  the  habeas  corpus  writ. 

"  The  case,"  says  the  Judge, "  was  never  brought." 
Lawyers  still  lift  their  brows  at  Judge  Lindsey's 
"loose  practice,"  but  though  he  has  dealt  with 
more  than  five  thousand  children's  cases,  the  ques- 
tion of  due  process  has  been  raised  but  once  since 
—  at  home.     A  Boston  judge  demurred  not  long 


154  UPBUILDERS 

ago.  Lindsey  lectured  there,  teaching  his  doc- 
trine that  the  boy  is  more  important  than  the 
Law,  and  that  where  justice,  blindfolded,  made 
criminals  of  "bad"  boys,  justice  with  love  saved 
them  to  the  State.  "God  forgive  the  people  who 
brought  that  man  here!"  exclaimed  the  Boston 
judge.  And  the  next  time  a  young  criminal  was 
brought  before  him  he  "  showed  how  to  deal  with 
such  cases."  The  boy  had  thrown  a  snowball 
at  a  man,  and  the  Boston  judge  sent  the  prisoner 
to  jail  for  thirty  days  "on  the  evidence."  But 
Lindsey's  doctrine  had  taken  hold  of  the  public 
mind;  the  newspapers  investigated  the  case  very 
much  as  Lindsey  would  have  done,  and  — 
on  the  facts  —  Boston  public  opinion  reversed 
the  Boston  judge.  He  had  made  a  mistake. 
He  was  right,  in  a  way,  this  law-worshipping 
judge;  it  wouldn't  do  to  let  men  like  him  exercise 
their  human  feelings.  But  Boston  was  right,  too; 
such  men  shouldn't  be  allowed  to  deal  with  the 
children  of  men.     Even  blind  justice  isn't  revenge. 

The  penal  instinct  is  strong  in  man,  and  Den- 
ver felt,  for  a  long  while,  as  this  pagan  judge  felt. 
Grave  fears  were  expressed  everywhere  of  Lind- 
sey's "leniency,"  as  men  called  his  Christianity, 
for,  of  course,  no  one  recognized  it  for  what  it  was. 

"What  the  little  devils  want  is  a  good  licking," 
said  the  grown-ups,  "or  the  jail." 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  155 

"No,"  the  Judge  replied,  "all  they  lack  is  a  fair 
show  and  —  understanding."  And  he  gave  the 
boys  and  girls  a  "show  and  understanding," 
and  they  showed  that  they  understood.  He  had 
to  fight  the  doubts  of  their  elders,  but  he  believes 
in  fighting.  "The  world  needs  fighting  men," 
he  teaches.  "Every  good,  great  man  was  a 
fighter."  So  he  enlisted  the  children  in  his  fight 
for  a  "decent  town  of  decent  kids,"  by  telling 
them  how  he  was  called  foolish  for  putting  faith 
in  "bad  kids."  But  also  he  teaches  that  "a 
good  example  and  loving  service  —  these  are  the 
weapons  of  peace."  And  this,  Hkewise,  the  kids 
understood.  The  difficulty  was  to  make  their 
elders  understand,  but  he  was  patient,  and  the 
children  helped  him. 

A  city  official  of  high  degree,  exasperated  by  the 
outrageous  depredations  of  a  "gang  up  his  way," 
called  on  the  Judge  once  to  send  to  prison  three 
of  the  boys  that  were  under  arrest. 

"  Born  criminals,  that's  what  they  are,"  said  the 
official,  and  some  of  their  acts  were  "  burglaries." 

The  Judge  talked  with  the  boys.  He  got  them 
to  bring  in  the  others,  and  among  them  was  the 
son  of  the  official  of  high  degree ! 

"Your  son  isn't  a  born  criminal,"  said  the 
Judge,  "and  neither  are  the  others." 

He  sent  none  of  the  boys  to  prison.     The  Judge 


156  UPBUILDERS 

taught  them  some  elementary  lessons  about 
crime  and,  putting  them  on  their  honour,  let  them 
go  "on  probation."     Their  *' crimes"  ceased. 

The  Judge  says  his  service  in  the  Juvenile 
Court  has  taught  him  many  things  about  chil- 
dren, but  the  information  he  has  gained  there 
about  parents  he  characterizes  as  "amazing." 
He  ranks  fool  fathers  and  incompetent  mothers 
among  the  first  causes  of  the  troubles  of  children, 
and  if  you  add  vicious  and  negligent  parents  you 
have  nine-tenths  of  all  his  children's  "cases" 
accounted  for. 

"Children  don't  rebel  at  authority,"  he  says, 
"only  at  ignorant  authority,"  and  there  is  where 
.many  parents  fail.  "Every  father  and  mother 
ought  to  know  more  about  their  own  children  than 
anyone  else.  Perhaps,  in  most  cases,  they  do, 
but  it  is  amazing  how  often  they  don't.  And  the 
reason  they  don't  is  that  they  haven't  enough 
love  for  children  to  understand  them,  and  not 
enough  character  to  hold  their  respect.  Their 
children  lie  to  them,  and  it  is  the  parents'  fault. 
I  recall  hardly  a  single  case  in  the  thousands  I 
have  dealt  with  when  we  did  not  get  the  truth 
from  the  child;  yet  in  hundreds  of  these  cases  the 
children  had  Hed  to  the  parents.  Why .?  They 
were  afraid  of  their  parents j  they  were  not  under- 
stood at  home/' 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  157 

The  reference  here  is  not  to  the  parents  of  the 
poor  "bad  kids";  they  also  have  their  faults,  and 
the  Judge  has  had  his  troubles  with  them.  But 
the  poor  have  in  poverty  an  excuse  for  neglect, 
and  where  one  parent  is  vicious,  the  other  is 
pathetically  glad,  usually,  of  help  such  as  Judge 
Lindsey  gave.  The  poor  are  "down  on"  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Chil- 
dren, of  New  York;  but  for  Judge  Lindsey,  of 
Denver,  they  will  fight  —  even  at  the  polls.  He 
won  over  the  poor  easily  enough. 

His  hardest  honest  battles  were  with  the  well-to- 
do  father  who  "had  no  time  to  fuss  with  his  boy," 
except  now  and  then  to  "lick  him,"and  the  vain 
and  frivolous  mother  who  "just  knew  that  her 
nice  little  boy"  or  her  "nicer"  little  girl  "wouldn't 
do  such  things."  Now,  the  Judge  finds  that  all 
children  are  pretty  much  alike  at  bottom;  they 
all  are  "nice,"  but  the  Old  Harry  who  is  in  their 
parents  is  in  the  kids,  too;  and  the  Judge  doesn't 
mind.  The  Judge  has  a  sneaking,  human  preju- 
dice against  "little  prigs";  he  rather  favours 
husky  lads  and  mischievous  little  girls  who,  if 
they  can  do  wrong,  can  do  right  with  equal  energy. 
But  the  "nice"  parents  are  forever  making  prigs 
and  snobs  of  their  children  or  proving  to  them 
their  elderly  assininity. 

"I  remember  a  gentleman,"  the  Judge  relates. 


158  UPBUILDERS 

"who  was  most  violent  in  his  complaints  to  me 
about  boys  in  a  certain  (fashionable)  district  who 
swiped  ice-cream  and  other  good  things  to  eat 
from  back  porches,  and  he  declared  he  had  for- 
bidden his  boy  to  go  with  the  suspects.  He  was 
the  surprised  dad  of  one,  the  worst  of  the  gang. 
I  had  to  find  it  out  for  him.  He  should  have 
known  it  himself.  He  was  too  busy  downtown  all 
day,  and  at  night  too  busy  denouncing  his  neigh- 
bours' children.  He  is  busier  now  studying  his 
own  son. 

"  The  mother  of  a  very  well-to-do  family  once 
swept  into  my  chambers,  highly  indignant  that 
I  had  sent  to  the  school  for  her  boy  who  had  been, 
with  others,  complained  against  for  a  serious 
offence.  I  had  preferred  not  to  send  an  officer  to 
arrest  him.  ^I  would  have  you  to  understand,' 
she  excitedly  declared,  *that  my  boy  is  no  thief;  he 
never  did  anything  wrong  in  his  life.'  She  knew 
it  because  she  heard  her  boy  say  his  prayers  every 
night  at  her  knee.  And  she  knew  how  he 
came  to  be  so  falsely  accused.  For  she  said:  *I 
know  Mrs.  A.  across  the  street  has  been  lying 
about  Frank.  She  is  a  mean,  contemptible  old 
thing.  She  told  Mrs.  B.  that  he  did  so  and  so,  and 
I  know  it  is  a  lie,  because  Frankie  told  me  so.' 
I  had  never  heard  of  Mrs.  A.  before,"  the  Judge 
says;  "I  had  got  at  the  truth  from  the  boys  them- 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE   159 

selves,  and  Frank  had  told  me  all  about  his  part 
in  it.  Indeed,  we  had  just  finished  our  talk,  and 
Frank  was  in  the  next  room  waiting  for  the  type- 
writer to  copy  a  note  I  had  dictated  to  ask  his 
father  not  to  lick  the  boy.  Frank  feared  his 
father,  and  I  knew  that  the  licking  would  be,  not 
to  correct  the  boy,  but  to  sate  the  anger  of  the 
parent  and  salve  his  wounded  pride.  Children 
know,  and  I  know,  and  you  know  how  many  a 
licking  is  as  selfish  as  that.  Well,  as  the  mother 
ended  her  tirade,  the  boy  came  back  with  the 
letter  to  be  signed.  His  face  fell  when  he  saw 
his  mother.  *Now,  Frank,'  I  said,  'tell  your 
mother  what  you  have  told  me.'  He  did.  She 
sank  into  a  chair  with  a  frightened  little  sigh :  *  Well 
who  would  have  believed  it?'  Another  mother, 
in  an  exactly  similar  situation,  after  nearly  faint- 
ing away,  suddenly  arose  and,  with  the  image  of 
Mrs.  A.  plainly  in  her  mind,  persuaded  her  little 
Frankie  to  repudiate  his  confession  and  stick  to 
the  lie.  Her  little  Frankie  didn't  turn  out  as  well, 
but  the  one  I  saved  from  a  *lickin"  has  been  a 
princely  little  fellow  ever  since  this,  his  first  real 
lesson." 

Experiences  like  these  would  make  an  ordinary 
man  feel  like  "licking"  Frankie's  busy  father 
and  humiliating  his  silly  mother,  and  Judge  Lind- 
sey  has  some  very  healthy,  human  feelings  about 


i6o  UPBUILDERS 

such  things,  as  he  shows  by  the  way  he  writes  of 
them.  The  man  has  humour  and  heat,  but  also 
he  has  charity  and  infinite  patience.  He  was  as 
gentle  with  those  parents  as  he  was  with  their  chil- 
dren. Having  discovered  early  that  many  parents 
thought  less  of  their  children  than  of  what  their 
neighbours  might  say,  the  Judge  provided  privacy. 
We  have  seen  him  calling  up  boys  in  his  Pro- 
bation Court  by  schools,  and  addressing  them  by 
their  first  or  "nick"  names.  This  he  does  to 
spare  not  only  the  pride  of  the  boy,  but  the  vanity 
of  his  father  and  mother.  And  so  he  abolished 
criminal  records  in  the  Juvenile  Court,  not  only 
to  save  a  boy  from  growing  up  with  a  rogue's 
name  to  burden  him,  but  to  shield  his  family  from 
"disgrace." 

But  the  best  example  of  his  practice  of  privacy 
and  consideration  for  both  parents  and  children 
is  his  method  of  dealing  with  girls.  He  himself 
seldom  speaks  of  this  part  of  his  work,  and  the 
reason  is  that  he  finds  it  is  a  sex-problem.  Some 
women,  who  themselves  are  students  of  delin- 
quent children  and  who  admire  Lindsey's  ser- 
vice with  boys,  say  that  he  errs  with  girls. 

"  Little  girls  steal,  lie,  and  do  all  the  other  things 
that  boys  do,"  they  say.  "The  police  don't 
arrest  them  as  often,  but  the  problem  of  the  girls 
is  as  various  and  as  complex  as  that  of  the  boys." 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  i6i 

However  that  may  be,  Lindsey  finds  the  sex-prob- 
lem big  enough  to  alarm  him;  and  he  says  his  ob- 
servations are  borne  out  by  men  who  know  in        s. 
other  cities.  ^^^^^^^ 

In  brief,  it  is  another  case  of  parental  ignor-  \\j^ 
ance  and  Anglo-Saxon  prudery.  Parents  do  not 
like  to  tell  their  children  the  essential,  natural 
facts  of  sex;  they  think  their  children  too  inno- 
cent. The  result  is  that  their  children  learn  them  ' 
at  school  or  at  play  from  other  people's  children, 
"bad"  boys  and  "forward"  girls,  who  impart  all 
this  knowledge  in  the  very  vilest  form.  And 
the  Judge,  probing  into  the  doings  of  boys  and 
girls  brought  before  him  for  other  things,  dis- 
covered that  these  lessons  had  taken  a  practical 
turn;  that  in  certain  schools,  where  the  thing  got 
started,  it  had  spread  to  include,  in  one  case  fif- 
teen, in  another  nearly  all  the  little  girls  in  the 
school.     What  did  he  do  about  it  ? 

First,  he  got  the  truth.  Girls  lie  more  readily 
and  more  obstinately  than  boys,  but  he  per- 
suaded them  to  tell  all  about  it.  And  this  he 
accomplished  by  aflPecting  no  horror  of  the  sub- 
ject. He  treated  it  naturally.  He  didn't  take  the 
course  the  world  would  have  taken,  and  especially 
the  women's  world  —  he  didn't  make  the  poor 
little  girl  feel  that  she  was  lost  forever  and  ever. 
As  with  boys,  he  called  it  "all  a  mistake,"  and  a 


i62  UPBUILDERS 

mistake  that  could  be  retrieved.  Having  the 
truth,  he  called  in  the  mother.  It  is  a  fact  for 
mothers  to  ponder  that  no  children  wanted  mamma 
and  papa  to  know;  they  would  get  no  such  can- 
dour and  no  such  sympathetic  understanding 
at  home  as  they  got  from  their  Judge.  But  the 
Judge  insisted,  and  after  an  hour  with  the  child, 
he  often  had  to  spend  hours  with  the  mother  to 
prepare  her  to  be  motherly.  She  was  horror- 
stricken;  she  thought  of  the  disgrace;  of  what  Mrs. 
A.  would  say.  But  the  Judge  had  foreseen  all 
that.  He  had  other  women  calling  on  him  the 
same  day,  other  mothers  and  unmarried  women. 
The  shocked  mother's  good  name  was  shielded, 
and  she  and  her  daughter  were  brought  together. 
For  once,  no  lies,  no  vanities,  no  hypocrisies,  and 
no  false  modesty  stood  between  them,  and  there- 
fore there  was  no  lack  of  a  perfect  understanding. 
In  one  case  the  Judge  was  so  stirred  by  the  extent 
to  which  the  schools  had  been  cursed  by  this  evil 
that  he  called  a  "meeting  of  mothers."  No  one 
knew  what  it  was  for;  mothers  not  involved  were 
invited  with  those  that  were  in  trouble;  school 
teachers  and  other  women;  some  of  the  "best" 
women  in  town.  There,  all  together,  the  women 
of  Denver  were  informed,  warned,  and  instructed 
in  private.  It  was  beautifully  done.  No  names 
were  mentioned,  of  course,  not  even  the  name  of 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  163 

the  school,  and  no  breath  of  the  purpose  of  that 
meeting  ever  leaked  out. 

The  head  of  one  of  the  pubHc  utility  companies 
once  marked  Lindsey  for  defeat,  and  one  of  his 
executive  staff  remonstrated. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said,  "not  Lindsey." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  magnate.  "You, 
too  ?  Everywhere  I  turn  it  is,  *  Oh,  no,  not 
Lindsey.'  My  wife  is  for  Lindsey,  my  mother 
is  for  Lindsey,  my  sisters  are  for  Lindsey. 
And  now  you  are  for  Lindsey.  What  is  it  that 
makes  everybody  and  everything  fight  for  this 
judge?" 

Everybody  doesn't  fight  for  Judge  Lindsey;  only 
those  are  for  him  who  know  how  he  has  conspired 
with  them  in  secret  to  help  their  little  boy  or  their 
little  girl.  But  these  are  legion.  Poor  and  rich, 
"everybody"  has  knowledge  of  private  calls 
made  by  this  man;  of  hours,  days,  weeks  spent 
on  the  case  of  somebody's  bad  little  boy  whom 
they  have  seen  afterward  being  "good"  to 
"show  'em  that  th'  Jedge  is  dead  right  in  bankin' 
on  th'  honour  of  a  kid."  Opposition  ?  That 
of  the  parents  of  Denver  melted  like  one  of  Den- 
ver's summer  snows. 

All  the  opposition  to  faith  in  mischievous 
boys  soon  disappeared,  but  there  remained  the 
fear  of  this   treatment  for   "really   bad"   boys. 


i64  UPBUILDERS 

The  police  represented  the  old  policy  of  ven- 
geance and  prison.  When  the  Judge  received 
official  permission  to  deal  with  all  juvenile 
cases,  and  they  saw  what  his  treatment  was  — 
faith  and  hope  and  love  —  they  snorted.  The 
town  snorted  with  them,  and  when  the  police 
held  back  its  "criminals  born,"  public  opinion 
backed  the  police.  But  the  Judge  is  a  politi- 
cian, too;  he  knows  the  game,  and  he  went  after 
the  police.  How.?  He  might  have  exercised 
his  authority,  and  he  has  done  that  since,  in  his 
fights  with  the  dishonest  opposition  of  the  police. 
But  this  was  honest  opposition,  this  that  came 
first.  It  was  nothing  but  the  natural  conservatism 
of  human  nature,  and  he  was  patient  with  it. 
He  reasoned  with  the  police.  He  "showed 
them."  He  got  the  bad  boys  to  help  him  "  show 
'em,"  just  as  the  "nice"  boys  had  helped  him 
show  the  "good"  people  up  on  the  hill.  Judge 
Lindsey  came  down  off  the  bench  to  go  into  the 
jails  and  bring  into  his  Court  the  "criminals 
born";  and  he  brought  them  there,  and  there 
he  gave  to  them  also  trust,  encouragement,  and 
service,  and,  like  the  good  boys,  the  bad  ones 
gave  him  back  faith  for  faith,  hope  for  hope,  and 
for  his  love,  their  loyalty,  and  —  his  greatest 
triumph. 

That  is  what  most  of  the  admirers  of  Judge 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  165 

Lindsey  call  his  practice  of  trusting  young 
"criminals"  to  go  alone  to  Golden.  Other 
triumphs  of  his  seem  to  me  to  be  greater,  but 
certainly  the  sight  of  "a  convict,"  and  a  boy 
convict  at  that,  receiving  his  commitment  papers 
from  the  Judge  and  passing  through  the  streets, 
taking  train  and  changing  cars  to  get  to  Golden, 
and  there  delivering  himself  up  —  this  is  indeed 
a  spectacle  to  see.  And  it  is  a  common  spec- 
tacle in  Denver.  Judge  Lindsey  hardly  ever 
sends  an  officer  with  a  boy  now,  and  out  of  the 
hundreds  he  has  trusted,  only  three  have  failed 
him.  One  of  these  I  saw.  He  was  "  Eddie,"  the 
boy  I  told  about  in  the  first  part  of  this  story,  who 
was  hysterical,  and  the  Judge  had  doubts  about 
him;  indeed,  he  put  him  privately  in  charge  of  a 
"tough  kid"  who  was  going  also  to  the  school, 
and  it  was  the  tough  kid  who  reported  by  tele- 
phone from  the  station  where  they  changed  cars, 
that  "Eddie  can't  seem  to  make  it.  Judge.  He 
don't  say  he  won't,  but  he  cries,  and  I  guess  he 
ain't  strong  enough." 

Another  of  the  three  failures  was  a  boy  who 
was  started  twice,  and  when  the  Judge  reproached 
him  for  his  weakness,  suggested  a  way  to  beat 
himself.  "Try  me  by  another  road.  Judge," 
he  said.  "This  road  goes  right  by  my  old 
stamping  ground,  and  when  I  see  th'  gang  playin' 


i66  UPBUILDERS 

'round,  I  can't  help  it.  I  just  have  to  drop  ofF 
th'  car."  The  Judge  gave  him  tickets  over 
another  route,  and  that  night  received  word  that 
the  boy  had  "made  it." 

Well,  this  practice  of  the  Judge  was  begun  on 
an  impulse  in  this  first,  honest  conflict  with  the 
police.  They  had  caught  two  "dangerous  young 
criminals,"  boys  with  records  for  serious  crimes 
and  jail  breaking,  and  the  Judge,  having  found 
them  in  the  cells,  talked  with  them.  One  night 
the  Judge  telephoned  to  the  warden  to  send  over 
two  of  the  boys.  An  officer  brought  one.  "I 
think,"  the  Judge  says,  "that  the  warden's  idea 
was  that  it  was  dangerous  to  send  two  at  one 
time  without  handcuffs  on  them,  and  the  police 
knew  it  offended  me  to  have  them  come  into  my 
Court  or  my  chambers  with  young  fellows  hand- 
cuffed." 

When  the  officer  came  in  with  the  boy,  he  spoke 
in  an  undertone  to  the  Judge,  warning  him  that 
the  prisoner  was  the  "worst  in  the  bunch,"  and 
that  every  time  he  had  brought  him  to  that 
room,  the  boy  had  eyed  the  window  with  the 
fire-escape. 

"  Better  let  me  stay  here,"  said  the  officer.  The 
Judge  said  he  would  take  his  chances.  "All 
right,"  said  the  officer,  and  he  smiled,  "but  we 
shall  have  to  hold  you  responsible.     You  know 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  167 

what  it  has  cost  the  county  to  catch  this  prisoner." 
The  Judge  knew,  and  he  promised  to  give  a 
written  order  of  court,  if  necessary,  and  the 
officer  left. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  at  night,  dark  and  cold. 
The  boy,  sixteen  years  old,  was  strong,  and  his 
face  was  not  very  prepossessing.  The  Judge 
is  built  like  a  flower,  but  he  had  worked  hard 
on  this  boy,  and  he  believed  in  his  "method." 
So  when  the  door  closed  behind  the  officer,  he 
went  straight  up  to  the  boy. 

"Henry,"  he  said,  "the  officer  who  brought 
you  here  says  you  had  your  eye  on  the  fire-escape, 
and  that  you  are  looking  for  a  chance  to  'skip.' 
He  said  he  wouldn't  be  responsible  for  your 
return  to  jail  if  I  made  him  leave  you  alone  in 
this  room  with  me.  He  said  that  you'd  be  down 
that  fire-escape  quicker'n  a  wink.  Now,  I  don't 
believe  it.  I  believe  in  you,  Henry,  and  I  hope 
you  believe  in  me." 

With  that,  the  Judge  went  to  the  window 
and,  throwing  it  up  as  high  as  it  would  go, 
he   said: 

"There,  Henry,  there's  the  fire-escape  and  the 
night  and  two  hours  the  best  of  it,  for  I'll  promise, 
if  you  decide  to  *duck,'  not  to  report  to  the  Warden 
till  twelve  o'clock.  Now,  then,  if  you  think  you 
are    not   worth    saving,    not   worth    helping  —  if 


i68  UPBUILDERS 

all  the  hours  I  have  spent  with  you  in  jail  are  to 
go  for  nothing,  you  'scoot.'  I'll  not  interfere. 
I  leave  it  to  you.  I  can't  save  a  fellow,  you 
know,  not  by  myself;  I  can  only  help  a  fellow  to 
save  himself,  if  he  wants  to.  If  he  doesn't  want 
to,  and  I  can't  convince  him  that  he  ought  to 
want  to,  then  I  do  not  see  much  hope.  So,  go 
or  stay,  as  you  wish,  Henry." 

"Do  you  mean  that.  Judge.?"  the  boy  asked, 
and  the  Judge  thinks  his  impulse  was  to  go. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  he  answered,  and 
for  a  moment  the  two  looked  at  each  other. 

"Then,"  says  the  Judge,  "I  thought  I  saw  a 
peculiar  shadow  cross  his  face,  and  I  believed 
he  understood.  I  went  back  to  my  table  and  sat 
down.  I  must  confess  it  was  an  anxious  moment 
for  me.  I  wasn't  sure  that  I  had  made  on  that 
boy  the  impression  I  hoped  to  make.  He  looked 
so  hard.  And  he  wavered  there.  I  hardly 
dared  to  look  at  him.  I  thought  of  the  ridicule 
of  the  police,  of  the  failure  and  what  it  would 
mean:  the  defeat  of  the  policy  I  was  coming  to 
believe  in.  And  there  that  boy  hung,  swinging, 
actually  swinging.  Well,  he  had  a  certain  pecu- 
liar swinging  gait,  and  when  he  made  a  lurch 
for  that  window,  my  heart  rose  in  my  throat. 
His  hand  went  up  in  the  air,  and  I  thought  he 
was  gone.     But    no  —  the  hand    that    went    up 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  169 

seized  the  window  and  brought  it  down  with  a 
slam  and  a  bang.  Then  the  boy  came  and  sat 
down  at  my  table. 

"'Judge,'  he  said  in  a  very  simple,  almost 
boyish  way.  Til  stay  with  you.  I  never  had 
nobody  talk  to  me  like  you.  Til  do  anything 
you  say  for  me  to  do.' " 

So  they  talked.  The  Judge  told  the  boy  he 
might  have  to  go  to  Buena  Vista  (the  peniten- 
tiary), and  they  discussed  that.  And  they 
discussed  crime  and  the  police,  till  it  was  time 
for  Henry  to  go  back  to  the  jail.  And  then  — 
the  Judge  sent  him  back  alone,  and  he  went 
back  alone,  and  he  took  voluntarily  his  place 
behind  the  bars! 

It  "worked,"  this  "method"  did,  so  the  Judge 
adopted  it  as  a  method.  It  would  strengthen  the 
boys.  He  told  the  police  that  he  proposed 
thereafter  to  trust  all  prisoners  to  go  alone  to 
Golden.  The  police  laughed.  It  is  said  that 
they  passed  the  word  to  put  up  a  job  on  the 
Judge.  At  any  rate,  the  next  boy  for  Golden 
was  Billy  B.,  a  chronic  little  runaway,  and  with 
the  two  policemen  who  brought  him  in  came 
two  reporters.  The  officers  excused  their  double 
patrol  by  pointing  to  a  brand-new  shine-box 
which  Billy  carried  as  evidence  that  he  meant 
to    "skip."     That  kid    had  given    them    a    two 


170  UPBUILDERS 

weeks'  chase,  they  said,  and  they  weren't  taking 
any  chances  on  him.  The  Judge  might,  th^y 
implied,  but  there  were  the  two  reporters  to  bear 
witness  that,  if  Billy  skipped,  it  was  no  fault  of 
the  police.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  one  of  the  re- 
porters told  the  Judge  that  the  papers  had  been 
"tipped  off  to  send  them  out  and  get  a  good  story 
on  the  Judge." 

When  the  case  was  called,^  ever}j|)ody  was 
laughing  in  his  sleeve,  everyboay  but  the  Judge 
and  Billy  B.  The  Judge  was  anxious,  and  the 
boy  was  sobbing  irT  a  corner^  wffn  his  "shine-l^ox 
hugged  to  his  breast.  Billy  was  only  twelve 
years  old.  He  had  no  father,  and  his  mother 
was  a  washerwoman.  He  had  learned  early  to 
tramp.  The  Judge  had  worked  with  him,  but 
when  the  " movin'-about  fever"  got  hold  of  Billy, 
Billy  had  to  move.  And  he  had  the  fever  now. 
He  admitted  it  to  the  Judge,  and  when  the^Judge 
said  he  must  go  to  Golden,  the  little  fellow  burst 
into  tears.  He  had  visions  of  stone  walls  and 
iron  bars,  with  a  policeman  standing  over  him 
with  a  club  all  the  rest  of  his  days.  That  is  what 
prison  means  to  boys,  and  Golden  was  prison  to 
Billy.  So  he  dropped  on  his  knees  and  begged 
the  Judge  not  to  send  him  away,  promising  piti- 
fully "never  to  do  it  again."  Billy  was  simply 
afraid. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  171 

"Billy,"  said  the  Judge,  "you  are  crying  be- 
cause you  are  scared.  What  are  you  scared  of? 
Me  ?  Why  should  you  be  afraid  of  me  ? 
Haven't  I  given  you  a  square  deal  ?  Haven't  I 
given  you  every  chance  I  could,  helped  you  every 
way  to  be  a  good  boy  at  home  ?" 

"Yes,"  Billy  sobbed,  "but " 

"You  can't  be  a  good  boy  at  home.  You 
don't  get  a  fair  chance  at  home.  You  want  to 
move  on  all  the  time,  and  by  and  by  you'll  just 
be  a  *vag.'  Now,  you  don't  want  to  grow  up 
to  be  a  bum;  do  you  ?  No,  you  want  a  chance 
to  learn  a  trade  and  be  a  man." 

The  Judge  explained  at  length  that  Golden 
wasn't  a  reformatory  or  a  prison.  It  was  only 
a  school,  a  good  industrial  school,  where  a  poor 
kid  that  hadn't  a  chance  at  home  could  learn  a 
trade.  "Why,"  said  the  Judge,  "I've  been  there. 
I  like  to  go  there.  And  I  tell  you  everybody  up 
there  just  loves  a  kid  that  tries  to  do  his  best, 
and  they  help  him.  Nobody  hates  a  kid  at 
Golden.     No,  siree." 

By  and  by,  the  tears  ceased  to  flow.  The 
Judge  described  the  school,  its  shops,  its  mili- 
tary organization,  its  baseball  nines,  and  then, 
as  the  Judge  relates,  "when  fear  vanished, 
and  interest  began,  I  appealed  to  the  boy's 
nobility,  to  his  honour,  pride,  his  loyalty  to  me." 


172  UPBUILDERS 

Judge  Lindsey  seized  for  this  purpose  the  very 
preparations  the  police  had  made  for  their 
"joke  on  the  Judge."  He  introduced  Billy  to  the 
reporters. 

"What  do  you  think  the  cops  have  told  these 
reporters,  Billy?"  he  said.  "They  have  told 
them  that  that  fool  Judge  was  going  to  trust  little 
Billy  B.  to  go  to  the  industrial  school  all  by 
himself,  and  that  they  were  going  to  have  the 
laugh  on  the  Judge  because  they  knew  Billy 
better  than  the  Judge  did.  They  say  they 
know  you'll  never  go,  and  they  are  saying  what  a 
fine  joke  it  will  be  to  have  the  reporters  write  a 
story  to-morrow  telling  how  the  Judge  trusted 
Billy,  and  Billy  threw  the  Judge  down,  ditched 
his  papers,  and  ran  away.  And,  gee  whiz,  it 
would  be  tough  if  I  did  get  thrown  down.  But 
I'm  not  scared.  I  believe  in  you,  and  I'm  going 
to  trust  you.  I  am  going  to  give  you  these, 
your  commitment  papers,  and  your  railroad 
ticket,  and  we'll  see  whether  you  stay  with  me 
or  stay  with  the  police.  I  want  these  reporters 
to  tell  just  what  happens,  so  it'll  be  up  to  you, 
Billy,  to  go  to  Golden  or  skip." 

As  the  Judge  proceeded,  Billy's  head  began 
to  go  up  in  the  air.  By  and  by  he  pushed  the 
cold  tears  out  of  his  eyes,  and  when  the  Judge 
ceased  to  speak,  those  eyes  were  blazing. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  173 

"Judge,"  he  said,  "you  know  John  Handing, 
don't  you?" 

The  Judge  hesitated. 

"You  know.  Judge;  the  kid  th'  fellers  call 
Fatty  Felix." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Well,"  said  Billy,  "he's  my  chum.  Fatty 
is.  Now,  here's  my  shine-box.  You  give  that 
to  Fatty,  and  you  gimme  them  papers.  I'll 
show  'em.  You  trust  me,  and  I'll  stay  wit'  ye, 
Judge,  and  we'll  fool  'em,  all  right." 

And  off  went  Billy  B.,  twelve  years  old,  out  of 
the  court-room,  down  through  the  streets  — 
the  streets  he  loved  — to  the  car;  then  over  three 
railroads  to  the  little  town  of  Golden  where, 
asking  his  way,  he  climbed  the  long,  lonely  hill 
road  to  the  industrial  school — just  to  show  a 
doubting  world  that  "it"  works. 

Was  the  world  convinced  ?  No.  The  grown- 
ups marvelled,  and  even  the  boys  sneered.  The 
Judge  "fixed"  the  boys.  He  heard  that  they 
called  Billy  B.  a  "chump"  up  at  Golden,  so  he 
went  up  there,  and  he  told  the  story  in  a  speech 
which  made  Billy  B.'s  face  shine  like  his  old 
shine-box.  That  speech,  repeated  again  and 
again,  at  Golden  and  in  Denver  and  all  over  the 
State,  has  made  it  an  honour  to  go  alone  to  Golden : 
a  test  of  pluck,  loyalty,  and  self-control.     And, 


174  UPBUILDERS 

on  the  other  hand,  to  "ditch  your  papers  and 
run,"  is  a  disgrace  in  Boyville  now.  A  boy 
called  on  the  Judge  one  day  with  an  offer  from 
the  gang  to  "lick"  any  kid  that  ditched  his  papers 
or  in  any  other  way  went  back  on  the  Judge, 
and  the  Judge  had  some  difficulty  in  explaining 
why  that  wasn't  "square." 

Wonderful  ?  Yes,  it's  wonderful,  if  you  don't 
see  what  "it"  is,  and  Denver  didn't  —  at  least, 
official  Denver  didn't.  The  Judge  saw  that  he 
had  to  "win  out"  with  what  the  world  calls 
"young  criminals  born,"  so  he  watched  for  a 
chance;  and  the  chance  came. 

"One  morning,"  he  says,  "the  newspapers 
reported  the  capture  of  Lee  Martin  and  Jack 
Heimel,  two  notorious  boy  burglars  known  as 
*The  Eel,'  and  'Tatters.'  They  were  the  lead- 
ers of  the  River-Front  gang  of  sneak  thieves, 
pickpockets,  burglars,  etc.,  and  they  had  done 
time  in  the  reform  school  and  jails  in  Colorado 
and  elsewhere.  The  newspapers,  having  told  all 
about  them  and  their  crimes,  went  on  to  say  that 
these  criminals  had  amply  qualified  for  a  long 
term,  and  they  should  therefore  be  tried  in  the 
criminal  court,  not  before  the  new-fangled,  grand- 
motherly juvenile  department.  Here  was  my 
chance  and  a  challenge. 

"I  visited  the  jail.     The  boys  were  in  separate 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE    175 

cells,  handcuffed  to  their  benches.  They  had 
just  come  out  of  the  sweat-box  where  the  police 
had  been  bullying  and  threatening  them  for  hours 
in  an  effort  to  make  them  tell  on  the  other  members 
of  the  gang,  and  they  were  bruised  and  battered. 
Tatters  looked  more  like  a  pirate  than  the 
fifteen-year-old  grammar  school  boy  he  was. 
A  picture  of  uncleanliness,  he  scowled  at  me 
out  of  sullen  black  eyes,  and  the  sinister  effect 
was  increased  by  the  livid  bruises  on  his  swarthy 
face.  I  talked  with  him,  but  could  get  nothing 
out  of  him.  His  lips  were  padlocked,  for  he  was 
plainly  suspicious  of  me. 

"Lee  Martin  presented  a  very  different  appear- 
ance. He  was  slight,  fair,  and  scrupulously 
neat,  despite  the  unutterable  prison  filth.  About 
him  was  an  air  of  childisli  innocence  hard  to 
reconcile  with  his  established  reputation  as  the 
most  expert  and  reckless  boy  criminal  within  a 
thousand  miles.  There  was  something  pecu- 
liarly winning  about  him.  I  have  never  met  so 
interesting  a  boy,  or  one  so  full  of  vital,  human 
experiences  learned  in  the  hard  school  of  life. 
He  had  gentle,  blue  eyes,  just  now  glaring  with 
hate.  It  was  an  expression  I  was  to  see  in  them 
often  during  the  next  few  months,  for  hatred 
and  revenge  were  then  the  dominant  emotions  of 
his  life. 


176  UPBUILDERS 

"As  I  stepped  across  the  cell,  he  drew  himself 
up  with  an  odd  touch  of  dignified  pride  peculiar 
to  him.  He  was  only  a  little  boy,  hunted  and 
run  to  earth  like  a  wolf,  cuffed  and  kicked  and 
flung  into  a  dark  cell  prior  to  being  railroaded 
through  the  court  to  the  reformatory,  but  he  was 
staunch  and  *game'  still  to  his  comrades. 

"'1  ain't  no  snitch,'  he  flung  out  before  I  had 
said  a  dozen  words. 

"*Good  for  you,'  I  told  him.  'There's  always 
good  in  a  fellow  that  won't  snitch  on  his  chums.' 

"He  looked  at  me,  greatly  surprised  but  still 
suspicious.  He  asked  me  who  I  was.  I  told 
him.  *  Are  they  going  to  try  me  in  your  Court  ?' 
he  asked.  I  answered  that  he  would  probably 
be  tried  in  the  criminal  court.  *  They'll  send  me 
up,  all  right,'  he  said  with  conviction.  'Would 
you?'  he  demanded.  'I'd  give  you  a  square 
deal,'  I  told  him.     He  sneered  in  my  face." 

Not  a  very  promising  beginning,  was  it .?  The 
Judge  did  not  give  up.  He  called  again  on  the 
boys,  and  again  and  again.  He  told  them  the 
truth.  He  told  them  he  was  labouring  to  have 
them  tried  in  his  Court,  and  why.  He  talked 
about  his  Court,  and  what  it  meant;  how  it  was 
opposed,  and  why.  He  had  no  secrets;  he  kept 
nothing  back.  He  discussed  crime,  his  view  of 
it,  the  police  view  of  it,  the  world's.     He  didn't 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  177 

know  who  was  right.  "  Gradually  their  suspicion 
of  me  disappeared,"  the  Judge  says.  "They 
came  to  regard  me  and  my  Court  as  engaged  in 
a  fight  for  them  against  the  hated  police."  The 
Judge  let  them  think  that.  It  was  true.  He 
explained  how  it  was  true,  how  "the  police  were 
not  to  blame,"  not  the  policemen.  They  were 
reared  in  a  school  that  taught  them  that  it  was 
their  duty  to  fight  crime  with  crime,  craft  with 
craft,  violence  with  force,  and  maybe  that  was 
the  only  way.  Certainly,  "fellers"  like  Tatters 
and  the  Eel  made  it  hard  for  the  police.  Hadn't 
the  boys  added  to  the  work  of  the  "cops,"  and 
to  their  worries  ? 

They  had  indeed.  The  Judge  laid  down  the 
kid  .law,  which  was  the  criminal  law,  about 
"snitching";  how  snitching  on  the  other  fellow 
was  wrong,  but  snitching  on  yourself  was  all 
right,  if  you  believed  what  you  told  was  to  be  used 
to  help  you.  This  they  understood,  and  as  their 
confidence  grew,  they  began  to  snitch  on  them- 
selves. 

They  told  the  Judge  their  stories,  and  they 
were  amazing  stories  of  crime  and  of  hate.  "The 
Eel  especially  hated  anything  in  the  nature  of 
legal  machinery  with  a  bitterness  that  amazed 
me,"  the  Judge  says,  "till  I  had  heard  his  story." 
And  then  the  Judge  tells  the  Eel's  story.     His 


178  UPBUILDERS 

father  was  foreman  in  a  machine-shop,  honest 
enough,  but  brutal  to  the  boy,  who  loved  his 
mother,  who  loved,  but  was  too  weak  to  help,  her 
son.  He  "bummed"  the  streets  day  and  night, 
dodging  his  father,  who  cuffed  and  cursed  him 
whenever  their  paths  crossed.  Lee  ran  away,  and 
to  keep  himself  became  a  sneak  thief.  Before 
he  was  ten,  he  had  "bummed"  his  way  from 
Chicago  to  Denver  and  become  a  "pretty  slick 
thief."  Arrested  now  and  then,  and  railroaded 
by  the  law,  he  was  patted  on  the  back  in  the  jails 
by  hardened  criminals  who  taught  him  to  pick 
pockets.  Caught  at  this,  he  learned  burglary 
from  burglars  in  the  jail  and,  at  the  age  of  twelve, 
nearly  killed  himself  trying  to  blow  a  safe.  The 
"Bull-pen"  had  shown  him  how,  but  he  put  the 
powder  in  the  wrong  place.  He  was  full  of 
courage.  An  experienced  "hobo,"  he  travelled 
twenty-five  thousand  miles  in  one  year  on  brake- 
beams  till,  tiring  of  that,  he  learned  to  sneak  into 
Pullmans  and  hide  and  sleep  in  a  vacant  upper 
berth.  Once  he  was  awakened  by  an  excla- 
mation from  the  porter:  "Good  Lawd,  they's  a 
kid  in  heah !"  The  Eel  tells  the  rest:  "I  flew  th' 
coop  when  the  coon  guy  went  to  tell  th'  conductor. 
That  ditched  me  in  a  town  they  call  Reno, 
Nevada.  'Course,  I  was  broke.  I  touched  a 
guy  for  a  half  and   bought  me  a  cane  and  some 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  179 

chewing-gum.  I  walked  Into  a  bank  and  up  to 
th'  guy  in  th'  monkey  cage.  I  says  I  wanted 
work,  and  when  he  went  to  see  de  head  guy,  I 
rammed  th'  gum  in  de  end  of  my  cane,  shoved 
it  through  the  cage,  and  swiped  a  twenty  that 
stuck  to  th'  gum.  Then  I  hiked  out  on  th' 
express  that  night." 

Where  did  the  boy  learn  that  trick  ?  In  jail. 
That's  where  the  State  taught  him  his  trade, 
and,  when  he  had  learned  a  new  crime,  he  could 
break  out  and  try  it.  Twice  he  had  broken  jail, 
cleverly,  boldly.  Once  when  an  officer,  Roberts, 
tried  to  recapture  him,  Lee  smashed  a  lantern 
in  the  man's  face  and  then  led  him  a  chase  through 
a  back  yard  where  clothes-lines  hung  in  the  dark. 
Caught  under  the  chin  by  a  line,  the  officer 
turned  a  "flip-flop,"  and  the  boy  got  away; 
not  unscathed,  however;  the  officer  fired  several 
shots  at  him,  and  one  hit  the  boy  in  the  hand. 

To  kill  that  policeman  was  one  of  the  vows 
the  boy  had  made  to  himself.  "He  tried  to  kill 
me.  I  was  only  a  kid,  and  he  tried  to  kill  me. 
I'm  going  to  kill  him  one  of  these  nights." 

The  Judge  listened  to  these  stories,  noted 
what  they  meant,  and  he  sympathized  with  the 
boys.  But  that  isn't  all  he  did.  He  sympathized 
with  the  Law  and  with  the  policeman,  too.  He 
showed  the  boys  just  where  he  thought  things 


i8o  UPBUILDERS 

were  wrong  in  the  Law  and  in  the  courts,  and  the 
boys  came  to  understand.  It  wasn't  easy  to 
correct  the  teachings  of  the  jails  and  the  police 
and  the  home  and  the  streets,  but  this  man  did 
it  with  those  boys.  He  showed  them,  for  example, 
how  the  officer,  Roberts,  was  acting  in  good  faith, 
doing  his  duty,  and  how  he  must  have  been 
exasperated  with  the  Eel.  And  the  Eel  saw  it. 
And  when  the  Judge  saw  that  he  saw  it,  he  brought 
the  boy  and  the  officer  together,  and  —  they  are 
good  friends  now. 

So  with  the  Law;  the  Judge  explained  what 
the  machinery  of  justice  was  for.  It  had  been 
perverted  from  its  true  function,  justice,  to  ven- 
geance, but  it  could  help  a  fellow,  and  he  proved 
it,  the  Judge  did.  He  got  the  cases.  And  he  got 
them  with  the  consent  of  the  police.  One  captain 
who  was  loudest  in  his  protestations,  said: 

"You  can't"  baby  Lee  Martin,  Judge.  He's 
been  in  jail  thirteen  times,  and  it  hasn't  done  him 
any  good." 

"No,"  said  the  Judge,  "and  if  I  fail,  I'll  still 
have  twelve  times  the  best  of  you.  You've 
failed  with  him  your  way.  It's  my  turn  now. 
It  has  cost  the  city  in  officers'  fees  alone, 
^^1,036  to  make  a  criminal  of  him.  Let's  see  what 
it'll  cost  to  turn  him  into  an  honest  boy." 

The  captain  ran  over  a  list  of  his  crimes.    The 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  i8i 

Judge  brought  out  a  longer,  more  correct,  type- 
written list. 

"How  in  the  world  did  you  get  that?"  the 
officer  asked,  astonished. 

"They've  confessed  to  me  everything." 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ?  We  couldn't  sweat  it 
out  of  them." 

"I  made  them  see  that  I  was  their  friend," 
the  Judge  said,  "and  that  I  wanted  to  use  the 
information  for  and  not  against  them." 

It  was  a  strange,  new  point  of  view  to  the 
police,  but  they  saw  that  there  was  something 
in  it,  so  they  tried  the  boys  before  the  kids'  Judge. 

The  evidence  was  plain.  Burglary  was  the 
specific  charge,  and  the  police  proved  it;  the  Judge 
was  convinced  formally  of  what  he  knew  (for 
the  boys  had  told  him  all  about  it).  What  did 
the  Judge  do  to  the  boys  ? 

He  put  them  on  probation.  Yes,  to  the  horror 
of  the  police  and  the  town,  he  did  by  these  bad 
boys  just  as  he  did  by  good  boys;  he  gave  them  a 
"show."     What  was  the  result? 

A  day  or  two  later  the  boys  called  on  the  Judge. 
With  them  were  two  others,  "Red"  Mike  and 
Tommy  Green.  The  Judge  understood;  these 
were  members  of  the  River-Front  gang,  for  whom 
the  police  were  on  the  lookout.  But  nothing 
was  said  about  that.     "We  had  a  general  talk 


i82  UPBUILDERS 

about  crime,"  the  Judge  says,  "and  the  principles 
of  the  Juvenile  Court."  The  Judge  was  expect- 
ant, so  were  Lee  and  Tatters,  but  it  was  left 
to  the  newcomers  to  do  their  own  snitching,  and 
they  did  it.  After  a  while,  "Red"  turned  to 
Tommy.  "Don't  you  think  it's  about  time  we 
were  snitchin'  up?"  he  asked.  Tommy  allowed 
that  it  was,  and  then  followed  what  the  Judge 
calls  "a  snitching  bee."  "And,"  the  Judge 
adds,  "I  had  two  new  probationers  for  my 
Court."  A  week  or  so  more,  and  these  four 
called  with  a  fifth  "kid,"  and  he,  a  "soft,  mushy 
one,"  as  the  Judge  describes  him,  he  also 
"snitched  up."  Another  period,  and  the  five 
brought  in  two  more.  That  finished  the  "crim- 
inal" Hst  of  the  River-Front  gang.  "Not  one 
of  these  boys  had  snitched  on  another,"  the  Judge 
says.     "Each  one  had  told  only  on  himself." 

All  those  "young  criminals"  were  put  on 
probation,  "and,"  says  the  Judge,  "six  out  of 
the  seven  have  stuck.  The  seventh  made  the 
pluckiest  fight  I  ever  saw  before  he  slipped  back, 
and  I  still  have  hopes  of  his  ultimate  success." 

What  does  the  Judge  mean  by  a  plucky  fight  ? 
"A  plucky  fight"  means  what  the  Judge  means 
by  probation  —  the  game  of  correction,  the  game 
of  overcoming  evil  with  good.  These  young 
criminals  had  not  only  to  be  good;  they  couldn't 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  183 

he  good.  That's  too  negative  for  husky  kids, 
and  the  River-Front  gang  were  a  husky  lot. 
The  Judge  says  boys  are  bad  because,  while 
they  have  lots  of  opportunity  to  do  wrong,  they 
have  none  to  do  good.  So,  as  in  the  case  of  mis- 
chievous boys,  he  gave  these  criminals  opportu- 
nities to  do  good.  There  were  other  "fellers" 
starting  on  careers  of  crime.  If  they  were 
allowed  to  go  on,  they  would  be  caught,  jailed, 
and  made  criminals  by  the  police,  who,  though 
they  didn't  mean  to  be,  were  really  criminal- 
manufacturers.  The  game  was  to  beat  the  pohce 
and  beat  public  opinion  by  showing  the  opposition 
that  the  Judge  was  right  about  kids,  that  "there 
ain't  no  bad  kids."  So  the  game  was  for  the 
River-Front  gang  to  bring  in  kids  that  were 
going  wrong,  get  them  into  the  Court  gang,  and 
thus  prove  by  the  good  they  all  could  do  to- 
gether that  "it"  worked.     And  "it"  did  work. 

The  loyalty  of  the  River-Front  gang  to  the 
Judge  as  leader  of  their  new  gang  was  superb. 
It  was  mistaken  sometimes.  Once  when  Jack 
Heimel's  mother  was  away,  he  slept  in  a  cheap 
boarding-house.  A  drunken  man  cried  out  that 
he  had  been  robbed,  and  he  accused  Jack  and  a 
friend  of  Jack's.  The  lodging-house  keeper 
knew  Jack  and,  of  course,  believed  the  charge, 
so,  sending  for  the  police,  he  placed  himself  in 


i§4  tfPBUlLDERS 

the  door  to  bar  the  way  out.  Jack  made  a  dash, 
hit  the  man  behind  the  ear  and,  dropping  him, 
leaped  out  and  away  with  his  chum.  The  poHce 
searched  for  them  all  night,  but  couldn't  find 
them.  The  Judge  found  them.  When  he  went 
down  to  Court  the  next  morning  the  boys  were 
"layin'  for  him."     Jack  explained: 

"We  didn't  take  th'  money,  Judge,  but  I 
had  to  hit  de  guy,  because,  you  see,  if  de  cops 
had  'a'  jugged  me,  me  name  would  'a'  been  in 
the  papers,  and  then,  wouldn't  they  say  that 
this  was  de  feller  what  de  Judge  ought  to  'a' 
sent  up  and  didn't  ?  And,  say,  wouldn't  dat 
'a'  got  you  into  trouble,  and  maybe  lost  you 
yer  job  ?" 

It  developed  afterward  that  the  drunken  man 
hadn't  lost  the  money  at  all,  so  Jack  Heimel 
was  cleared,  and  that  was  his  last  "scrape."  He 
got  a  job  as  a  mechanic  in  the  railroad  shops  and, 
loyal  always,  his  last  report  to  the  Judge  was  that 
he  had  sent  East  for  a  book  on  mechanical  engi- 
neering. He  was  rising,  and  he  feels  to  this 
day  that  his  success  means  much,  not  only  to 
him,  but  to  the  Judge  and  the  Court  gang,  and 
the  methods  thereof. 

The  Eel  had  a  hard  time.  "This  boy,  whom 
the  police  called  a  depraved  criminal,  has  done 
more    to    discourage    crime,"    the    Judge    says. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  185 

"than  any  ten  policemen  in  the  city.'*  He 
brought  in  boy  after  boy  to  "snitch  up,"  and  he 
helped  keep  his  own  gang  straight.  "Red" 
Mike  slipped  back  once.  Arrested  for  robbery, 
he  escaped,  and  the  police  were  after  him.  The 
Eel  was  troubled.  He  called  on  the  Judge. 
He  knew  where  "Red"  was  hiding,  and  he  knew 
the  Judge  knew  he  knew,  but  the  Judge  asked 
no  questions.  He  and  Lee  simply  talked  the 
matter  over  till  they  agreed  that  it  would  be 
better  for  "Red"  to  come  in  and  surrender 
than  to  be  driven  deeper  into  crime.  And  a 
day  or  two  later  "Red"  appeared  at  the  Judge's 
house,  "ready,"  as  he  said,  "to  take  his  papers 
and  go  to  the  reformatory." 

Lee  became  an  unofficial  officer  of  the  Court, 
and  the  Judge  used  him  freely.  Once  a  boy 
stole  a  pocketbook  from  a  woman  in  the  store 
where  he  worked.  The  Judge  sent  for  Lee. 
"Something  ought  to  be  done,"  the  Judge  said, 
"to  get  that  boy  back  in  the  right  path."  Lee 
went  after  him.  He  found  him  in  a  cheap 
theatre,  "treating  a  gang,"  brought  him  volun- 
tarily in,  and  —  to-day  the  boy  is  a  trusted 
employee  in  that  same  store. 

Another  time,  Teddy  Mack,  a  fourteen-year- 
old  "criminal,"  who  was  arrested  for  stealing 
a  watch,  sawed  his  way  out  of  jail  and  got  out  of 


i86  UPBUILDERS 

Denver.  All  summer  the  police  searched,  and 
the  Judge  and  Lee  Martin  often  talked  over  the 
case.     One  day  Lee  said: 

"Fd  like  to  get  that  kid  for  you,  Judge.  Fll 
bet  he's  down  to  the  fair  at  El  Paso.  You  send 
me  down  there,  and  —  I  won't  be  a  *  snitch 
cop,'  but  I  believe  I  kin  get  him  to  come  in." 

The  Judge  gave  Lee  five  dollars,  and  the  boy 
went  across  the  line  to  the  bull-fight.  There 
was  Teddy.  The  two  boys  took  in  the  fair 
together,  but  Lee  talked  "crime,  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Juvenile  Court"  to  Teddy,  and 
back  these  two  came  together  to  the  "Jedge." 
Teddy  "snitched  up."  The  Judge  gave  him 
twenty  dollars  to  redeem  the  watch  he  had 
pawned  for  three  dollars,  and  when  Teddy 
returned  with  the  watch  and  the  exact  change, 
he  was  sent  to  deliver  the  watch  to  the  owner 
and  to  admit  that -he  was  the  thief.  That  settled 
the  case,  and  that  settled  Teddy.  "We  had  no 
more  trouble  with  Teddy  Mack,"  the  Judge  says, 
"though  he  had  been  one  of  the  worst  boy 
thieves  in  the  city." 

The  boy  with  whom  Lee  Martin  had  the  most 
trouble  was  Lee  Martin.  He  could  not  settle 
down.  The  habit  of  "bumming,"  developed  in 
him  from  early  childhood,  was  too  strong,  and 
every  once  in  a  while  that  " movin'-about  fever" 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  187 

would  get  him.  "It  was  like  a  thirst  for  drink," 
the  Judge  says,  "and  I  told  him  that  when  he 
felt  it  he  must  come  to  me.  Once  or  twice  when 
I  saw  that  the  call  of  the  road  was  too  strong 
to  be  resisted,  I  let  him  take  a  ride  as  far  as  Colo- 
rado Springs  and  back."  But  that  didn't  always 
satisfy  him,  and  he  would  throw  up  his  job  and 
"skip."  It  hurt  him  to  do  this;  it  was  regarded 
as  disloyalty  to  the  Judge,  and  that  was  awful. 

"One  Sunday  evening,"  the  Judge  relates, 
/'word  reached  me  that  Lee  was  going  to  *fly 
out.'  This  worried  me  so  much  that  I  started 
for  his  home.  I  found  his  mother  in  tears.  The 
Eel  was  gone. 

"*He  just  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer,  Jedge,' 
she  apologized.  *He  lay  on  the  floor  there  and 
sobbed  just  like  he  was  in  a  high  fever.  "  What'U 
the  Judge  think?  What'll  the  Judge  think.?" 
he  kept  saying,  an','  the  woman  added,  *he  told 
me  to  tell  you  he'd  write.' 

"  I  went  home  much  troubled,  but  the  promised 
letters  reached  me,  one  from  Albuquerque,  then 
another  from  El  Paso,  a  rapid  succession  of  them. 
They  were  like  wails  from  a  lost  soul.  He  im- 
plored me  not  to  think  he  had  *  thrown  me  down.' 
That  was  the  burden  of  them  all.  He  was  coming 
back,  he  said;  he  just  had  to  get  on  the  move  for 
a    while,    but    he    hadn't    thrown    me    down.     I 


i88  UPBUILDERS    ^ 

wrote  him  not  to  steal,  and  he  didn't.  When 
he  came  back  a  month  later,  he  showed  me  a 
letter  from  a  man  he  had  worked  for  to  prove  it." 
There  is  more  of  the  story,  more  triumphs, 
and  more  disappointments,  and  there  are  more 
stories  just  like  it,  of  other  gangs.  For  all  the 
time  the  Judge  was  devoting  himself  to  the 
"River-Fronts,"  he  was  giving  himself  with  the 
same  devotion  to  his  other  "cases."  And  there 
were  failures  as  well  as  successes,  and  the  police 
and  the  cynics  clung  to  the  failures.  As  the  Judge, 
says,  however,  the  failures  were  really  weak 
boys.  "The  husky  kids,  the  kind  the  cops  call 
'dangerous,'  they  stuck  with  me;  they  showed  the 
police  that  there  *  ain't  no  really  bad  kids.'  Bad  ^ 
I  believe,"  the  Judge  said,  smiling,  and  he  quoted 
Riley: 

*"1   believe   all   childern's  good 
Ef  they're  only  understood  — 
Even  bad  ones,  *pears  to  me, 
*S  jes  as  good  as  they  kin  be!*" 

He  smiles  as  he  quotes,  then  the  smile  disap- 
pears, and  he  adds,  "And  that's  so  of  men,  too." 
"Yes,  but,"you  say, "there  are  criminals  born  ?" 
"Yes,"  he  replies,  "there  are  criminals  born, 
and  there  are  criminals  bred,  minors  and  majors, 
too.  But  who  bears  them,  and  —  what  breeds 
them  ?     What    makes    bad    boys    bad  ?     What 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  189 

makes   bad   girls   bad  ?     And   what   makes   men 
and  women  bad?" 

That's  his  answer,  another  question:  one 
question;  the  fortunate,  fatal  question  which 
got  Ben  Lindsey  into  his  fights  with  the  dishonest 
opposition  of  Denver,  the  fights  which  —  because 
he  won  them,  he  and  the  children,  and  because 
they  led  him  straight  to  the  cause  of  crime, 
juvenile,  and  grown-up,  too  —  have  made  the 
"kids'  Jedge"  of  Denver  one  of  the  leaders  of 
the  great  war  that  is  going  on  in  Colorado.  The 
outside  world  couldn't  understand  why  the  people 
of  his  state  wanted  the  Judge  of  the  Juvenile 
Court  to  run  for  Governor;  nor  why  he  was 
willing  to  take  the  nomination.  The  reason,  as 
we  shall  see,  was  that  Ben  Lindsey  is  no  mere 
philanthropist,  but  (in  the  true  sense  of  the  word) 
a  politician;  no  mere  saver  of  little  victims  of 
wrong,  but  a  man  leading  men  to  destroy  the 
opportunities  for  evil-doing,  and  to  give  all  the 
children  of  men  a  "show"  to  "do  good." 


\ 


III.    BATTLES   WITH    "bAD"    MEN 


Early  in  the  history  of  Denver's  Juvenile 
Court,  a  boy  was  arraigned  for  stealing  lumber 
and    sand    from    a    contractor.     The    contractor 


I90  UPBUILDERS 

was  indignant;  he  "wanted  to  know  whether 
Judge  Lindsey  was  going  to  coddle  that  kid 
or  protect  the  property  of  the  citizens  of  Denver 
from  thieves."  The  Judge  said  he  would  take 
the  case  under  advisement.  He  did.  He  took  the 
case  "for  a  walk  and  a  talk." 

Once  out  of  that  stiff  old,  stuffy  old  court  room, 
the  tears  dried  up,  and  the  two  got  acquainted. 

"What  did  you  want  the  lumber  for,  kid.?" 
the  Judge  asked. 

"We  were  building  a  shack  in  my  back  yard, 
and  we  needed  more  boards  than  we  had." 

The  Judge  used  to  build  shacks,  and  he  and 
the  kid  discussed  the  different  kinds  you  could 
build.  The  Judge  bragged  about  some  he'd 
put  up.     But  he  never  used  sand  in  a  shack. 

"What  did  you  swipe  the  sand  for .?"  he  asked. 

"Well,"  said  the  kid,  "girls  can't  build  shacks. 
They  can  keep  house  in  'em  after  they're  built, 
but  my  sister  and  the  other  fellers'  sisters,  they 
wanted  something  to  do  till  the  shack  was  done. 
So  while  we  was  gettin'  the  boards,  we  seen  the 
sand,  and  we  swiped  a  little  pile  for  the  girls  to 
play  in." 

And  coming  into  the  back  yard,  the  kid  showed 
the  Judge  the  shack  and  the  sand-pile  —  aban- 
doned now.  All  work  was  suspended,  pending 
a   decision   in   their   case.     The   kid   wanted   to 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  191 

know  what  the  Court  was  going  to  do  to  him. 
The  Judge  said  he'd  take  the  case  under  advise- 
ment, and  he  did.  He  took  a  walk  down  to  the 
contractor,  and  he  told  said  complainant  all  about 
the  shack  and  the  sand,  and  the  contractor 
furnished  all  the  lumber  and  sand  necessary  to 
finish  the  job  in  that  back  yard.  As  for  the 
children,  they  "cut  out"  all  "swipin'." 

The  Judge  kept  the  case  under  advisement, 
however.  He  kept  on  walking  around  in  back 
yards,  and  talking  with  young  "thieves"  and 
"builders."  He  saw  many  signs  of  energy  and 
enterprise,  and  nothing  to  do;  nothing  good. 
Everywhere  was  private ;  riowhere  to  play.  Every- 
thing was  property  to  steal.  The  grown-ups 
had  "hogged"  everything,  and  children  had 
nowhere  to  play  and  nothing  to  play  with. 

The  Judge  set  about  organizing  a  juvenile 
association  of  grown-ups  to  furnish  materials 
for  young  builders  to  build  with;  playgrounds 
to  build  on;  water  to  swim  in;  jobs  in  the  beet 
fields  for  vacation  kids  that  had  to  work,  and 
mountain  trips  for  the  rest.  In  brief,  the  JudgeV^  V/ 
Juvenile  Association  for  the  Protection  and  •  /^ 
Betterment  of  Children,  which  he  is  trying  to 
make  a  national  organization,  originated  out  of 
his  discovery  that  society  had  forgotten  to  provide 
children  with  opportunities  for  good. 


^ 


192  UPBUILDERS 

But  society  provided  opportunities  for  evil. 
Denver  offered  plenty  of  these,  and  the  children 
knew  them  all.  "I  was  amazed  to  hear  what 
children  knew/'  the  Judge  says.  "I  talked  to 
them,  and  I  walked  with  and  among  them;  I 
visited  back  alleys  at  night,  hung  around  cheap 
theatres,  visited  the  tenderloin  and  the  slums. 
Standing  in  the  shadow  just  outside  of  saloons, 
I  saw  children  come  with  pitchers  in  their  hands, 
sent  there  for  beer  by  their  parents,  and  while 
they  waited,  I  heard  men  tell  obscene  stories. 
The  children  listened,  boys  and  little  girls.  I 
talked  with  the  boys,  and  I  found  that  they  under- 
stood everything  that  was  vile.  You  see,  I  was 
trying  to  get  at  the  causes  of  criminality  in  chil- 
dren, in  children  whom  I  found  responsive  to 
the  noblest  sentiments  of  honour  and  fair  dealing. 
Well,  I  thought  I  saw  what  the  causes  were:  the 
problem  is  one  of  environment;  manifold  oppor- 
tunity for  evil  and  none  for  good;  and  then,  back 
of  this,  certain  social  and  economic  conditions. 
What  could  I  do  to  relieve  these  conditions  f  I 
asked  myself  that  again  and  again.  My  Court 
could  correct  the  evil  done,  some  of  it,  but  how 
could  I  prevent  the  evil  from  being  done?*' 

Perfectly  simple  and  logical,  all  this.  The 
Judge  had  no  answer  ready,  but  he  attacked  the 
worst  condition,  one  that  stirred  him  to  his  depths. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE;  193 

He  found  that  the  Denver  saloons  had  wine- 
rooms,  and  that  not  only  boys,  but  girls,  were 
allowed  in  them  and  ruined.  The  law  forbade 
these  places  to  women,  but  the  law  wasn't  en- 
forced. Why  ?  Everybody  knows,  in  a  general 
way,  why.  Denver  is  a  typical  American  city 
government,  and  Lindsey,  a  former  member  of 
the  Democratic  State  Executive  Committee,  knew, 
in  a  general  way,  the  reason  for  a  "liberar' 
excise  policy.  It  helped  business.  When  cow- 
boys and  miners  and  other  visitors  came  to  town, 
they  wanted  to  have  a  good  time,  and  it  was 
good  for  all  business  to  help  them  spend  their 
money.  But  the  Judge  saw  that  however  good 
for  business  it  might  be  to  neglect  to  enforce 
the  wine-room  law,  it  was  bad  for  the  children; 
and  he  put  that  view  of  it  before  the  Police  Board. 
He  knew  well  the  president,  Frank  Adams,  and 
the  members  of  the  Board.  Frank  is  a  Democrat, 
like  Ben,  so  Ben  urged  Frank  to  enforce  the  law 
in  the  interest  of  the  children.  The  Judge  also 
addressed  the  Chief  of  Police.  The  Chief 
couldn't  do  anything  but  refer  the  letters  to  the 
Board,  which  wouldn't  or,  at  any  rate,  didn't, 
do  anything.  The  Judge  then  proceeded  in  his 
own  way  to  compel  the  Board  to  enforce  this  law. 
Colorado  is  a  great  place  for  injunctions.  The 
"interests"  there  use  the  courts  very  much  as 


194  UPBUILDERS 

in  other  states  they  use  legislatures  and  governors. 
The  brewers  own  the  saloons,  and  brewing  is  an 
interest.  It  "contributes"  to  both  parties.  The 
brewers  and  the  dive  interests  got  out  a  writ  en- 
joining the  Police  Board  from  enforcing  the  law. 
Judge  Lindsey  says  the  Police  Board  got  out 
the  writ  against  itself,  and  there  was  some  ground 
for  this  suspicion.  In  the  first  place,  the  attorney 
for  the  brewers  was  the  Democratic  State  Chair- 
man. In  the  second  place,  Frank  Adams,  who 
is  a  member  of  the  Adams  family,  famous  in 
Colorado  politics,  was  the  "iceman"  in  Denver. 
There  were  other  icemen,  but  the  saloons  generally 
bought  of  him.  So  he  may  have  been  doing  his 
customers  a  favour,  on  the  side.  But  certainly 
the  brewers  were  interested,  for  they  >varned 
Lindsey  that  if  he  went  on  making  trouble  for 
them,  they  would  defeat  him  for  reelection. 
No  matter  about  that,  however.  Judge  Peter 
L.  Palmer  —  of  whom  it  has  been  said  that  he 
would  "enjoin  the  birds  of  the  air  from  flying 
and  the  fishes  of  the  sea  from  swimming"  — 
Peter  L.  Palmer  held  that  since,  under  the  con- 
stitution of  Colorado,  women  had  the  same  rights 
as  men,  the  law  forbidding  them  the  wine-rooms 
was  unconstitutional.  Wherefore  he  enjoined  the 
Police  Board,  and  the  Police  Board  obeyed  his 
order.     Judge  Lindsey  didn't.     He  fined  a  dive- 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  195 

keeper  in  the  face  of  it,  and  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States  upheld  his  ruling. 

It  takes  time  to  go  through  the  courts,  however, 
and  while  the  case  was  pending  on  appeal,  girls 
were  being  haled  into  the  Juvenile  Court  as 
"incorrigible";  and  they  did  look  "bad."  But 
the  evidence  showed  that  they  had  been  made 
bad  in  wine-rooms. 

"And  I  found  that  these  wine-rooms  were 
'protected*  by  the  police,"  the  Judge  says.  "I 
tried  time  and  again,  with  Frank  Adams  and  with 
the  other  commissioners  and  with  the  Chief  of 
Police  to  get  the  wine-room  keepers  arrested,  and 
in  vain.  Children  they  would  bring  in,  the  boys 
and  girls,  but  no  adults.  I  investigated  further. 
I  called  on  the  Humane  Society,  and  the  Secre- 
tary, Mr.  E.  K.  Whitehead,  told  me  of  the  most 
horrible  details.  He  also  had  complained  in 
vain  to  the  police.  Then  I  went  out  and  I  saw 
some  of  these  things.  I  saw  sixteen  boys  gambling 
in  one  place,  and  when  I  reported  it  to  the  police- 
man on  the  corner,  he  insulted  me.  I  wrote 
about  this  and  about  the  wine-room  to  the  Chief 
and  to  the  Commissioner.     No  answer. 

"One  Sunday  I  went  to  visit  one  of  my  proba- 
tioners, and  I  found  him  cursing  his  mother 
vilely,  with  an  amazing  command  of  oaths. 
Looking  about,  I  saw  that  it  was  partly  a  house 


196  UPBUILDERS 

of  assignation,  partly  a  home  for  the  very  poor,  and 
all  the  children  were  masters  of  men's  language. 
Looking  further,  I  saw,  ten  feet  from  the  door  of 
this  house,  the  rear  entrance  to .  a  wine-room  — 
wide  open,  though  it  was  a  Sunday  morning.  I 
went  to  the  mistress  of  the  house  of  assignation, 
and  she,  hardened  though  she  was,  told  me  that 
this  wine-room  had  supplied  more  than  one  bad 
place  with  inmates.  Only  a  week  before,  she 
said,  she  saw  two  girls  halt  at  that  wine-room 
door.  One  was  afraid  to  go  in.  The  other 
was  urging  her,  and  while  they  were  talking  three 
men  came  out,  seized  the  reluctant  girl,  and 
dragged  her  in.  The  next  day  the  woman  heard 
groans  and  sobs  across  the  way,  and  she  went 
to  see  what  was  the  matter.  She  found  the 
girls  in  the  cellar,  naked  and  drunk ! 

"My  GodT'  the  Judge  exclaimed,  "where  was 
the  policeman  all  this  time?" 

"Oh!"  she  said,  "he  knew  all  about  it.  He 
was  in  there,  too,  drinking  with  them!" 

"  It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  repeat,"  the  Judge 
says,  "all  the  things  I  saw  and  heard  that  har- 
rowed my  very  soul.  But  they  were  the  causes, 
this  crime  and  vice  and  this  police  partnership, 
of  many  of  the  woes  and  troubles  that  come  into 
my  Court." 

What   could   he   do  ?     The   Judge   knew  that 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  197 

besides  the  "ice"  and  the  brewers'  contributions, 
there  were  other  powers  back  of  all  these  condi- 
tions. The  railroads  ruled  the  state,  the  rail- 
roads and  the  mine-owners  and  the  American 
Smelting  Company.  Under  them,  in  Denver, 
and  for  them,  were  all  the  public  utility  companies 
which,  having  grants  of  privileges,  rewarded  the 
people  of  the  city  and  state  by  corrupting  their 
government.  "It's  necessary,"  they  say.  Now 
the  corrupt  business  interests  that  ruled  Denver 
and  Colorado  ruled  partly  by  ballot-box  stuffing, 
and  it  was  the  dive-keepers,  thieves,  loafers  —  all 
the  hangers-on  of  vi^e  and  crime  —  who  did  the 
stuffing.  Lindsey,  who  long  had  known  this, 
realized  now  that  he  had  nowhere  to  turn  to  appeal 
for  some  little  consideration  of  the  children  of 
his  town,  except  to  the  people  of  his  town. 

He  invited  the  Police  Board  to  visit  the  Chil- 
dren's Court  on  Saturday  morning.  May  24,  1902. 
He  also  invited  reporters.  Frank  Adams  didn't 
come,  but  the  other  commissioners  did,  and  the 
bailiff  gave  them  seats  in  the  jury-box.  There 
the  children  could  see  them,  and  they  could 
see  the  children,  and  there  were  some  two  hundred 
children  on  hand  that  morning:  two  hundred 
"bad"  boys  who  knew  all  about  everything, 
including  that  Police  Board.  When  they  were 
all  ready.   Judge  Lindsey  entered   and  took  his 


198  UPBUILDERS 

place  on  the  bench.  He  looked  over  his  gang  of 
kids,  and  then  he  spoke  to  those  officials,  typical 
American  officials. 

"I  have  asked  you  gentlemen  to  come  here 
and  look  at  these  boys,"  he  said.  "There  are 
also  girls  in  this  city  who  report  on  Fridays," 
he  added.  The  commissioners  looked  at  the 
boys,  and  the  Judge  went  on  to  say  that  while 
these  children  were  brought  there  as  delinquents, 
it  was  not  alone  the  children  who  were  delin- 
quent. "Parents,  in  many  cases,  and  adults  who 
violate  the  law,  and  particularly  police  officials 
who  refuse  to  enforce  the  law,  they  are  more  re- 
sponsible than  the  children,"  he  said. 

He  illustrated:  "It  became  the  duty  of  this 
Court  recently  to  send  a  young  girl  to  the  In- 
dustrial School.  She  was  not  depraved  or  vicious; 
she  was  capable  of  being  a  good,  pure  woman 
with  any  kind  of  favourable  environment.  But 
she  was  subject  to  temptations.  What  were 
these  temptations .?  The  wine-rooms;  not  one, 
but  many.  She  was  induced  to  enter  such  places. 
You  knowingly  permitted  them  to  run  in  viola- 
tion of  the  law.  Yet  the  child  is  punished  and 
disgraced.  You  and  the  dive-keeper,  the  real 
culprits,  you  go  scot-free." 

The  Judge  —  from  the  bench,  mind  you  — 
said    this    to    those    commissioners.     Then    he 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  199 

spoke  of  a  young  man  who  had  lost  his  life  in 
the  same  place  where  this  girl  was  ruined.  He 
told  the  rooming-house  woman's  story,  and  he 
described  also  her  terror  lest  the  police  should 
learn  that  she  had  informed  on  the  dive-keepers! 
Then  he  described  what  he  knew  of  gambling  by 
boys. 

"I  have  seen  a  pitiful,  gray-haired  old  lady, 
bent  with  years,  her  face  dimmed  with  tears, 
pleading  in  this  Court  to  recover  the  all  she  had 
on  earth,  lost  by  a  son  in  a  gambling  hell  tolerated 
by  you.  And  here  in  broad  daylight  those  who 
conduct  the  place  come,  and  they  tell  of  the 
open  game  of  this  young  man  and  the  loss  of 
that  money,  and  this  they  do  with  the  prosecuting 
officer  passing  in  and  out.  .  .  .  It  is  nonsense 
to  talk  about  these  things  not  being  known  to 
your  Board.  It  only  subjects  you  to  contempt 
and  ridicule." 

Frank  Adams  had  been  appealing  to  the  Judge 
in  the  name  of  "business"  and  "the  party,"  not 
to  "rip  up"  the  liquor  question.  The  Judge 
answered  that  appeal  now  with  another: 

"Flesh  and  blood,  body  and  soul,  the  future 
of  little  children  is  so  sacred,"  he  said,  "that  it 
is  a  monstrous  sacrilege  to  permit  any  other 
consideration  to  interfere.  ...  I  know  it  is 
unusual  to   speak  thus  publicly,   but   all  things 


200  UPBUILDERS 

usual  have  been  done,  and  something  unusual 
is  justifiable.  I  therefore  beg  of  you  in  this  public 
manner,  in  the  presence  of  these  children,  for 
their  benefit,  that  you  earnestly  and  diligently 
war  upon  these  places.  ...  I  assure  you 
that  you  will  have  then  the  good  will  and  respect 
which  are  denied  you  now.  That  is  worth  more 
than  all  the  vaunted  boastings  of  all  the  devil's 
agents  in  this  town.  It  is  to  these  that  you  are 
catering  now,  and  until  you  break  the  spell  they 
have  over  you,  you  will  be  storing  up  misery,  hell, 
and  damnation  for  the  present  and  future  genera- 
tions." 

It  was  a  terrible  arraignment,  there  before 
those  children,  whose  eyes  bored  into  those 
officials.  There  was  silence  for  a  moment; 
then  one  commissioner,  Charles  F.  Wilson,  rose 
to  answer.  He  said  the  Board  had  closed  the 
place  where  the  Judge  had  seen  the  boys  gambling. 
The  two  hundred  boys  looked  at  the  Judge;  he 
hesitated.  Didn't  he  know  about  that  ?  Some  of 
the  boys  did,  and  one  of  them  sprang  to  his  rescue. 
Leo  Batson,  twelve  years  old,  rose,  and  pointing 
his  finger  at  Commissioner  Wilson,  he  said  : 

"Yes,  you  closed  it  up,  but  you  opened  it  up 
again,  like  you  generally  do.  It  was  open  inside 
of  a  week.  And  it's  open  now,  'cause  I  seen 
boys  in  there  myself." 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  201 

There  was  silence  when  Leo  sat  down.  The 
boys  looked  at  the  commissioner.  He  was  still 
a  moment,  then  he  went  on  without  answering 
the  boy.  He  referred  to  Peter  L.  Palmer's 
injunction.     It  was  the  Judge's  turn. 

"The  issuance  of  that  injunction  was  without 
sense  or  precedent,"  said  Judge  Lindsey.  "And 
it  didn't  tie  your  hands.  You  could  have  brought 
your  cases  to  my  Court.  In  this  tribunal  you  will 
find  the  whole  power  of  the  Court  on  the  side  of 
the  law." 

The  newspapers  all  turned  "yellow"  with  this 
story,  and  that  settled  the  matter  for  the  time  being. 
The  tip  was  passed  that  the  police  couldn't  "stand 
for  wine-rooms  where  young  girls  went — for  a 
while." 

The  Judge  went  on  walking  and  talking  with 
the  children,  and  he  listened,  too,  and  the  things 
they  suffered  kept  his  feelings  aroused,  while 
their  wisdom  "put  him  wise."  It  was  appalling, 
what  these  children  knew. 

"Huh,  business  men!  They  steal,  too!"  said 
a  cynical  little  thief  one  day  when  the  Judge 
held  out  to  him  the  prospect  of  growing  up  to  be 
a  "respected  business  man,"  if  only  he  would  stop 
stealing.  "Don't  the  street  railway  swipe  fran- 
chises ?  And  the  gas  company  and  them,  don't 
they  steal  'em  ?    Guess  I  can  read.    And  my  boss, 


202  UPBUILDERS 

that's  kicking  to  have  me  sent  to  jail,  don't  he 
sell  cheap  jewelry  for  eighteen  carat  fine  ?" 

In  this  and  similar  cases  the  Judge  had  to  reach 
down  below  the  teachings  of  the  world  of  business 
to  the  nobility  born  in  the  "born  thief,"  to  save 
him.  "It's  mean  to  cheat  and  steal,"  he  said, 
and  it  was  the  success  of  this  appeal  that  con- 
vinced Ben  Lindsey  that  human  nature  was  good 
enough  to  go  to  war  for. 

Of  course,  he  didn't  realize  at  first  what  he 
was  warring  against.  Brought  up  in  a  perfectly 
conventional  way,  his  notions  of  life  and  economics 
were  perfectly  commonplace;  but  when  men 
came  to  him  and  in  the  name  of  "business," 
"the  party,"  and  "property"  besought  him  not 
to  fight  so  hard  for  the  children,  he  began  to  see 
that  the  enemy  of  men,  as  of  children,  was  not 
men,  but  things.  Once  he  and  a  police  captain 
had  a  dispute  in  chambers  over  the  custody  of 
some  boys  arrested  for  stealing  bicycles.  The 
police  wanted  to  hold  the  boys.  Why  ?  The 
Judge  couldn't  make  out  till  the  officers  said 
something  about  the  owners  of  the  wheels  wanting 
to  "get  back  their  property." 

"Oh,"  said  the  Judge,  "I  see  the  difference 
between  you  and  me:  you  want  to  recover  the 
property,  while  I  want  to  recover  the  boys." 

The  Judge  recovered  both. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  203 

A  cotton  mill  was  set  up  in  Colorado.  That 
was  a  new  industry,  and  the  men  who  established 
it  were  applauded  for  their  "enterprise,  which 
could  not  but  benefit  the  whole  State."  To 
compete  with  the  South,  however,  this  mill  had 
to  employ  child  labour.  The  kids'  Judge  heard 
that  they  were  importing  large  families  and 
setting  the  little  children  to  work.  Colorado 
had  a  child-labour  law,  and  the  Judge  went  to 
the  mill  to  see  if  the  law  was  being  violated.  It 
was,  and  the  conditions  were  pitiful. 

"These  imported  people  were  practically 
slaves,"  he  says.  "They  had  come  out  under 
contracts,  and  the  children,  unschooled,  toiled 
at  the  machines  first  to  liberate  their  parents,  then 
to  support  them." 

The  Judge  warned  the  milling  company,  but  that 
did  no  good,  so  he  had  criminal  proceedings  in- 
stituted, and  not  only  against  the  superintendent, 
but  against  the  higher  officers  also. 

This  is  not  the  custom  in  the  United  States, 
and  the  president  of  the  mill,  who  was  also  one 
of  the  big  men  in  the  Colorado  Fuel  &  Iron 
Company,  called  on  the  Judge  to  explain  that  he 
was  a  respectable  citizen.  The  Judge  suggested 
that  it  wasn't  proper  to  try  to  influence  a  judge 
in  a  pending  case,  but  the  president  "didn't 
want  to  do  anything  improper";  all  he  wanted 


204  UPBUILDERS 

was  to  remind  the  Judge  that  a  conviction  in  the 
case  would  make  him  (the  president)  a  criminal. 
"And  I  am  no  criminal,"  he  said.  The  Judge 
replied  that  he  was  if  he  broke  the  law.  But  the 
president  didn't  break  the  law.  If  the  law  was 
broken,  it  was  by  his  superintendent,  and  it  was 
all  right  to  fine  his  superintendent.  But  the 
president  was  a  gentleman  and  a  "big  man." 

"I'd  rather  fine  you  than  your  superintendent," 
said  the  Judge.  "He  is  only  your  agent,  and, 
as  you  intimate,  you  wouldn't  mind  if  he  were 
punished.  So  I'll  punish  you  as  I  warned  you; 
I  told  you  that  if  he  persisted  in  violating  the  law 
for  you,  I'd  hold  you  responsible." 

"But,  Judge,"  he  said,  "if  you  are  going  to 
keep  up  this  fight,  we  will  close  the  mill !  "  And 
he  proceeded  to  tell  what  a  great  industry  it 
was;  how  many  people  it  gave  employment; 
how  much  good  it  was  doing  to  the  city  (he 
meant  the  business)  of  Denver;  and  how  much 
money  had  been  invested  in  it  by  himself  and 
other  capitalists. 

"His  point  of  view,"  the  Judge  says,  "was 
perfectly  plain.  Money  was  sacred,  men  were 
of  no  account.  If  business  went  well,  children 
could  go  to  —  well,  let  us  say,  to  work.  And 
he  blamed  me,  not  the  Law,  not  the  State;  he  had 
no  fear  of  these.     I,  personally,  with  my  queer 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  205 

regard   for   men   and   women   and   children  —  I 
was  a  menace  to  business." 

"I  warn  you  right  now,"  he  said  to  the  Judge, 
"that  if  this  thing  keeps  up,  we  will  shut  down 
the  mill,  and  you  will  have  to  share  the  conse- 
quences." 

And  Judge  Lindsey  replied:  "We  are  here  to 
protect  the  children  and  to  enforce  the  Law, 
and  all  I  regret  is  that  the  penalty  isn't  imprison- 
ment instead  of  a  fine,  so  that  I  could  be  sure 
of  preventing  you  from  employing  young  chil- 
dren." 

And  the  Judge  persisted,  and  the  mill  was 
closed  down.  Other  causes  contributed,  but 
Lindsey  never  shirked  his  "share  of  the  respon- 
sibility." 

What  IS  more,  Judge  Lindsey  had  the  child- 
labour  law  made  stricter.  He  can  put  "money" 
in  prison  now  if  it  hurts  children.  He  had  to 
fight  business  and  politics  and  the  police  to  do 
it,  but  he  did  it;  he  and  the  kids  and  the  men  and 
women  of  Denver. 

We  have  seen  that  the  Judge  set  out  to  correct 
the  evils  of  child  life  under  the  laws  as  they 
stood.  He  had  been  making  notes,  however, 
of  legislation  he  wanted,  all  the  while  he  was 
walking  and  talking  and  trying  cases.  For 
example,    the    Juvenile    Court    existed    by    the 


2o6  UPBUILDERS 

courtesy  of  the  District-attorney,  who  was  a 
machine  man;  Lindsev  gave  himself  the  legal 
right  to  demand  all  children's  cases.  He  had 
exercised  discretion;  he  gave  himself  explicit 
authority  to  exercise  discretion.  He  had  found 
adults  at  fault  for  the  criminality  of  children; 
he  drew  a  paragraph  making  parents,  employers, 
business  men,  and  all  other  grown-ups  amenable 
to  the  criminal  law  for  neglect,  abuse,  or  temptation 
of  children.  This  is  his  now  famous  "con- 
tributory delinquency  law  against  adults."  Need- 
ing probation  officers,  he  authorized  the 
appointment  of  them,  and  since  the  police  and  the 
Sheriff  and  the  District-attorney  were  all  tied 
up  with  the  liquor  and  other  business  interests, 
he  gave  his  probation  officers  certain  police 
powers.  The  child-labour  law  was  only  one 
item  in  the  legislation  Judge  Lindsey  went  after. 
The  Judge's  bills  were  most  important  legis- 
lation, and  to  put  them  through  he  had  to  proceed 
most  carefully.  He  began  in  the  convention, 
by  taking  a  hand  in  the  nomination  of  legislators. 
His  enemies  fought  him  there,  and  they  beat  his 
man,  but  he  came  up  on  good  terms  with  the 
others.  They  introduced  his  bills  and  started 
them  through  the  mill,  very  quietly.  Hardly 
any  notice  was  taken  of  them.  Apparently  the 
lobbyists  didn't  do  their  work  well,  for  the  interests 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  207 

were  amazed  after  it  was  all  over  to  see  in  the 
new  laws  "what  Lindsey  had  been  up  to."  An 
officer  in  one  of  the  telegraph  companies  said 
the  "interests"  would  never  have  let  either  the 
child  labour  or  the  adult  deUnquency  bill  pass 
if  they  had  known  of  them.  The  Judge  had 
learned  that  the  messenger  service  was  a  degrading 
influence  for  boys;  they  were  sent  to  all  sorts  of 
vile  places,  saw  all  sorts  of  vile  things,  and  caught 
respectable  citizens  in  predicaments  the  knowl- 
edge of  which  made  the  boys  cynical  and  vicious. 
So  he  advised,  and  he  still  advises,  both  boys 
and  parents  against  the  messenger  service.  But 
he  wished  also  to  have  a  club  to  hold  over  the 
companies;  wherefore  he  had  drawn  into  one 
of  his  bills  a  clause  including  officers  of  telegraph 
companies  under  the  "adult  delinquency  law." 
The  companies,  suspecting  the  Judge,  twice 
sent  a  lawyer  to  the  capital  to  see  "Lindsey's 
bill,"  and  he  saw  one  bill,  an  inoffensive  one, 
never  the  other.  He  didn't  know  there  was 
another.  It  was  the  other  that  "hurt  our  busi- 
ness," he  said.  Thus  beaten,  the  companies 
never  dared  to  move  for  a  repeal;  they  surrendered, 
and,  calling  on  the  Judge,  came  to  an  understand- 
ing with  him  about  what  they  might  and  might 
not  do  with  boys. 

There   was    a   fight   on   these    bills,    however. 


2o8  UPBUILDERS 

It  is  known  among  the  good  citizens  and  bad 
kids  of  Denver  as  "the  fight  against  the  jail." 
After  moving  along  regularly  through  the  Senate, 
the  Judge  noticed  that  his  bills  suddenly  stuck  in 
the  House.  "What  was  the  matter?"  the  Judge 
inquired.  The  clerk  couldn't  explain.  One  eve- 
ning a  reporter  called  at  the  Judge's  house. 

"Judge,"  he  said,  "Frank  Adams  is  fighting 
your  bills.  His  brother  Billy,  you  know,  is  a 
power  in  the  Legislature.  They  don't  dare  come 
out  in  the  open  and  fight  you,  but  they  are  telling 
it  around  that  you  are  crazy  on  the  children 
subject,  and  that  the  boys  fill  you  up  with  lies!" 

"What  had  I  better  do.?"  the  Judge  asked. 

"Stir  'em  up,"  said  the  reporter.  "Give  me 
an  interview  and  tell  all  about  the  jail." 

"That's  grand-stand  playing,"  the  Judge  said, 
smiling. 

"It's  appealing  to  public  opinion,"  said  the 
reporter,  "and  that's  against  the  rule  of  graft, 
but  what  do  you  care .?     You  aren't  a  grafter." 

The  Judge  made  out  a  statement,  but  it  was 
too  mild.  The  reporter  rejected  it,  and  with 
the  facts  the  Judge  told  him  and  what  he  and  all 
police  reporters  knew,  Harry  Wilber  (for  that 
was  the  reporter's  name)  did  what  newspaper 
men  love  to  do  when  they  get  the  chance  —  he 
wrote  the  truth,  and  he  wrote  it  to  kill.     United 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  209 

States  Senator  Patterson's  paper,  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain News,  printed  the  interview  in  red,  and 
it  was  sensational.  The  Judge  says  it  gave 
him  a  sensation  himself.  But  it  was  true,  so  he 
"stood  for  it."  Frank  Adams  answered  it  with 
a  denial.  The  boys  were  liars,  he  said,  and  as 
for  Judge  Lindsey,  he  was  crazy. 

"I  knew  then,"  says  the  Judge,  "that  I  was 
up  against  it.  I  must  make  good.  So  I  wrote 
to  the  Police  Board  offering  to  hold  an  inquiry. 
They  were  willing,  they  answered,  but  not  then. 
I  wanted  it  then,  and  I  ordered  it  for  two  o'clock 
the  next  day  in  my  court  room.  And  lest  the 
Board,  recalling  the  last  time  they  met  the  boys, 
might  not  come,  I  invited  also  the  Governor, 
the  Mayor,  the  District-attorney,  other  officials, 
fifteen  ministers  and  rabbis,  and  others.  I 
didn't  expect  many  to  come,  but  they  all  accepted, 
even  Governor  Peabody  —  all  but  Frank  Adams 
and  the  police  commissioners.  The  Board  sent 
a  dummy  to  represent  it." 

It  was  Saturday  morning  when  the  Judge  got 
his  acceptances,  and  he  had  to  hurry.  Calling 
in  a  friendly  deputy  sheriff,  he  asked  him  to  get 
ten  witnesses  named  on  a  list  he  had  made  of 
boys  who  had  been  in  the  jails.  "I  must  have 
them  by  two  o'clock,"  the  Judge  said.  The 
officer  declared  it  impossible,     He  should  have 


210  UPBUILDERS 

had  two  days'  notice.  The  Judge  was  In  despair, 
but  he  ran  over  his  list  till  he  came  to  the  name 
"Mickey." 

Mickey  was  a  street  boy.  He  had  been  in 
jail  often,  and  the  last  time  was  only  a  month  or 
so  before.  After  he  got  out,  he  and  the  boys 
in  with  him  had  called  on  the  Judge  to  com- 
plain. They  stated  their  case.  They  were  run- 
ning through  the  street  when  one  of  them  knocked 
over  a  sign  to  which  some  shoes  were  attached. 
The  man  in  the  store  rushed  out  and  sent  the 
policeman  after  the  boys.  They  had  stolen  his 
shoes,  he  said,  and  the  policeman  arrested  them. 
The  boys  hadn't  taken  a  shoe,  and  absolutely 
the  only  evidence  against  them  was  the  fact  that 
one  of  the  boys  needed  shoes!  His  feet  had 
come  through  his  old  ones.  They  were  thrown 
into  cells  among  criminals,  bums,  and  drunks, 
then  put  all  together  In  one  cell  next  to  drunken 
women  of  the  street.  During  the  evening  one 
of  them  broke  a  window,  and  when  the  jailer 
came  and  cursed  and  kicked  them  about,  they 
wouldn't  tell  who  had  done  it.  In  a  rage,  the 
man  knocked  down  one  of  them  and,  when  the 
rest  scattered  and  ran,  pursued,  and  bowled 
them  over  with  his  great  keys.  They  were  de- 
tained a  week  and  then  released  without  a  hearing. 

The  Judge  had  the  boys  examined  by  a  physi- 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  211 

cian,  who  found  evidences  enough  that  they  had 
been  beaten.  But  the  Judge  went  down  to  the 
jail,  and  he  learned  the  truth  there  from  his 
regular  sources  of  information.  Satisfied  of  the 
justice  of  their  complaint,  the  Judge  went  with 
the  boys  to  lodge  a  protest  with  the  Police  Board. 
The  commissioner  refused  to  believe  the  boys' 
stories.  It  was  this  case,  and  many,  many  cases 
like  it  that  had  convinced  Judge  Lindsey  that 
the  jails  were  not  only  schools  where  older  crim- 
inals, male  and  female,  taught  boys  crime  and 
vice,  but  places  where  the  police  practised  brutal 
injustices  which  made  the  boys  hate  the  police, 
dread  the  law,  and  despise  everything  that  we 
mean  by  "civilized  society."  It  was  the  experi- 
ences of  boys  like  Mickey  and  his  gang  which 
had  prompted  the  Judge  to  write  the  bill  which 
had  been  held  up,  the  bill  providing  a  detention 
school  and  forbidding  juvenile  offenders  to  be 
held  in  jail  at  all. 

"This  was  Mickey's  fight  that  I  was  making," 
the  Judge  says,  as  he  tells  the  story,  "  and  I  knew 
I  could  count  on  the  little  chap.  I  asked  the 
officer  if  he  could  get  me  Mickey.  He  said  he 
could,  and  I  begged  him  to  go  and  tell  the  boy 
I  needed  help." 

In  a  few  moments  Mickey  burst  breathlessly 
into  the  Judge's  chamber. 


212  UPBUILDERS 

"What's  the  matter,  Judge?"  he  asked. 

"Mickey,"  the  Judge  said,  "I'm  in  trouble, 
and  you've  got  to  help  me.  I  helped  you.  I 
went  down  and  I  made  a  fight  for  you  fellows. 
Didn't  I.?" 

"That's  what  you  did,"  said  Mickey.  "Betcher 
life  you  did." 

"Well,  now  you've  got  to  stay  with  me."  And 
he  told  Mickey  what  he  wanted  —  all  the  kids 
he  could  find  that  had  been  in  jail.  "The  offi- 
cer can't  get  them;  says  there  isn't  time  enough. 
Can  you .?" 

"  Can  I  ?  Well,  you  watch  me !  Don't  you 
worry  about  the  kids.  Judge!  Gimme  a  wheel, 
and  I'll  get  kids,  kids  to  burn!" 

The  Judge  went  out,  and  he  and  Mickey 
borrowed  a  wheel.  It  didn't  fit,  but  Mickey 
hopped  on  and  went  spinning  down  the  street. 

"It  was  a  relief  to  me  to  see  him  go,"  the  Judge 
says,  "but  my  worry  wasn't  over.  The  invited 
officials  began  to  arrive  before  Mickey  returned. 
At  ten  minutes  before  two,  when  the  Governor 
appeared,  there  was  not  a  kid  in  sight.  The 
entire  company  had  assembled  in  my  chambers 
before  I  saw  sign  of  any  witnesses,  and  I  was 
troubled.  It  was  painful.  I  knew  I  could  count 
on  Mickey,  and  the  kids  generally,  but  suppose 
he  couldn't  find  them!" 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  213 

But  Mickey  found  them.  Just  at  two  there  was 
a  murmur  outside.  It  grew  into  a  hubbub 
which,  as  it  came  down  the  hall,  developed  into 
an  alarm.  The  Judge's  guests  were  startled, 
and  even  the  Judge  wasn't  sure.  It  sounded  like 
a  mob,  and  up  the  stairs  it  rattled,  then  down  the 
upper  hall  toward  his  chamber.  As  it  approached, 
the  Judge  knew.  He  flung  open  the  doors,  and 
there  were  thirty  or  forty  boys,  with  Mickey 
radiant  at  their  head. 

"  Here's  the  kids,  Judge.  Got  more'n  I  thought 
I  would." 

"Bully  for  you,  Mickey!"  said  the  Judge. 
**  You've  saved  the  day." 

"I  told  ye  I'd  stay  wit'  ye.  Judge." 

The  Judge  took  the  "mob"  into  a  side  room. 
There  he  told  them  what  was  up.  They  were 
to  tell  the  truth  about  the  jails.  "The  police 
say  you  have  lied  to  me,"  he  said.  "If  you  have, 
I  ask  you  now  to  tell  the  truth.  But  tell  it. 
Tell  it  as  you  tell  one  another.  Tell  it  in  your 
own  words.  They  may  be  bad  words,  but  these 
gentlemen  want  to  know  the  truth.  So  tell  them 
all.  Tell  them  what  you  see — the  dirty  things; 
tell  them  what  the  older  prisoners  say,  and  what 
they  do  to  you." 

He  put  Mickey  in  charge.  "Pick  out  your 
best    witnesses,    Mickey,"    he    instructed    him. 


214  UPBUILDERS 

*'and  send  them  in  one  by  one."  And  Mickey 
began  to  sort  his  witnesses.  As  the  Judge  left 
the  room,  he  heard  Mickey  say,  with  a  shove, 
"You  get  back  there,  Skinny,  you've  only  been 
in  five  or  six  times.  Fatty  Felix  has  been  in 
twenty-three  times  and " 

Mickey  led  in  his  witnesses,  one  by  one,  Fatty 
Felix,  Teddy  Healy,  Teddy  Mack,  and  the 
rest,  till  the  Governor  and  the  ministers  cried 
"enough!" 

Those  boys  told  what  was  what.  They  told 
of  lessons  in  crime  by  older  criminals;  stories 
they  had  heard  there  of  injustices  by  judges 
and  of  cruelties  by  the  police.  They  showed  up 
the  world  as  the  criminals  see  it  and  as  those 
criminals  showed  it  to  the  boys.  And  they  also 
related  scenes  of  vice  and  foulness  too  revolting 
to  repeat.  And  those  boys  made  that  company 
of  grown-ups  believe  them,  too.  Once  or  twice 
the  police  representative  interrupted,  but,  as  the 
Judge  says,  "Teddy  Healy's  answer,  direct, 
awful,  and  yet  innocently  delivered,  made  the 
matter  ten  times  worse."  The  officials  dropped 
all  thought  of  cross-examination.  Once  a  minis- 
ter asked  Mickey  about  the  visits  of  the  clergy 
to  the  jail. 

"Never  saw  one,"  said  Mickey.  Then  he 
remembered.     "Oh,  yes,  seen  the  Salvation  Army 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  215 

there  onct,  but  they  sang  'Praise  God  from 
Whom  All  Blessings  Flow,'  and  we'd  heard  that 
before,  and  besides,  there  didn't  seem  to  be  no 
blessings  flowing  our  way." 

It  was  the  officials'  turn  to  snule,  and  the 
ministers,  they  also  ceased  to  cross-examine. 
The  boys  were  left  to  talk,  watched  by  Mic±ey 
and  frankly  guided  by  the  Judge.  It  went  on 
for  an  hour  or  two,  then  a  preacher  rose. 

"My  God,"  he  said,  "this  has  gone  far  enough! 
It  is  too,  too  horrible !"  And,  as  he  left,  Goiremor 
Peabody  got  up. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  never  in  my  life 
heard  or  knew  <^  so  much  rot,  corruption,  and 
vileness  as  I  have  learned  this  day  from  these 
babes  —  almost  —  and  I  want  to  say  that  nothing 
in  my  administration  will  be  so  important  to  me 
as  signing  Judge  Lindsey's  bills.  I  don't  care 
to  read  those  bills.  If  he  says  they  are  designed 
to  correct  these  conditions,  I  am  satisfied.  And," 
turning  to  the  representatiTe  a£  Frank  Adams, 
he  added,  "if  Judge  Lindsey  is  crazy,  I  want 
my  name  written  ri^t  under  his  as  one  of  the 
crazy  people.  And  as  to  those  bojfs  lying,  any- 
one who  says  they  have  been  fying  to-day  must 
be  himself  a  liar." 

WMi  that  the  meeting  broke  up.  The  Judge 
¥rent  back  to  the  boys,  and  he  thanked  them 


2i6  UPBUILDERS 

and  Mickey.  He  was  careful  to  explain  again 
what  it  was  all  about.  "'Skill  in  handling 
marble  is  as  nothing  to  skill  in  handling  men, ' " 
he  quotes,  and  he  wished  to  be  sure  that  no  false 
impressions  were  left  in  these  boys'  minds.  "I 
am  fighting  for  a  decent  place  to  keep  kids  that 
are  too  weak  to  be  on  the  level,"  he  said.  "The 
jails  are  not  decent;  and  Mickey,  you  boys  have 
beaten  the  jail  to-day,  you  and  all  the  good  kids 
in  Denver.  Go  out  and  tell  them  so,  for  it  is 
their  victory." 

That  was  true.  It  was  a  victory.  The  pulpits 
rang  with  the  story  the  next  day.  The  men  and 
women  of  Denver  heard,  and  so  did  the  grafters, 
and  the  grafters  felt  the  effect  in  public  opinion. 
Lindsey's  bills  came  up  from  the  bottom  and 
were  passed  and  signed  and  made  part  of  the 
laws  of  Colorado  within  a  week.  And  now  other 
states  are  copying  them. 

Reformers,  whose  notion  of  reform  consists 
in  "getting  a  law  passed,"  are  often  amazed  to 
find  that  their  good  law  does  no  good.     The  reason 

^   t^      is  that  neither  public  opinion  nor  public  officials 

V^      enforce  the  new  laws.     Lindsey  had  waited  for 

t^      his  legislation  till  he  had  the  support  of  public 

N^^,      opinion,    and   then    he    enforced    his    new   laws; 
y        he,  and  the  boys  and  girls,  and  public  opinion. 

O,  They    were    effective    laws.     They    gave    the 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  217 

Judge  control  of  the  whole  children's  case.  He 
proceeded  gently  to  the  enforcement  of  his  power. 
He  had  written  into  the  laws  full  authority  to 
exercise  his  discretion,  with  adults  as  with  children, 
and  he  did  this  because  he  meant  to  be  human 
and  charitable  to  men  as  he  had  been  to  children. 
It  had  worked  with  the  children;  he  would  try 
it  on  their  elders.  So  he  was  firm  but  not  unkind. 
When  the  police  brought  in  a  boy  for  getting 
drunk,  the  Judge  asked  for  the  man  who  sold 
the  boy  the  liquor,  and  the  police  had  to  fetch 
the  man.  Sometimes  the  Judge  fined  him; 
sometimes  he  imprisoned  him;  sometimes  he 
suspended  sentence.  For  he  talked  to  the  men 
as  he  did  to  the  boys,  and  if  he  found  that  they 
hadn't  thought  of  the  evil  they  did  by  carelessly 
serving  boys  and  girls  with  tobacco  and  liquor, 
the  Judge  explained  it  to  these  saloon-keepers. 
And  if  he  thought  they  were  impressed,  he  put 
them  also  "on  probation."  That  gave  him  a 
hold  on  them,  which  prevented  crime  and  vice. 
For  the  Judge  knew  what  was  going  on.  He 
had  thousands  of  eyes.  The  boys  and  girls 
watched  for  him.  When  the  Judge  had  got  his 
legislation,  he  told  the  children  that  the  new 
laws  were  their  laws  —  enacted  for  them  and  by 
them;  for  Mickey  and  his  "gang  of  jailbirds," 
who  carried  the  day,  represented  the  children  of 


2i8  UPBUILDERS 

Denver.  The  children,  therefore,  must  obey 
these  laws  and  help  enforce  them.  He  broad- 
ened the  doctrine  of  "snitching  on  the  square." 
It  was  mean  to  spy;  it  was  wrong  under  the  law 
to  "get  a  man  to  break  the  law  and  then  peach 
on  him."  No  child  was  to  be  "smart"  and  hunt 
for  evil.  But  when  a  man  sold  cigarettes  and 
liquor  to  children,  that  man  was  "making  kids 
bad,"  and  for  a  pitifully  small  profit,  too.  Where- 
fore, the  thing  for  a  kid  to  do  was,  first,  to  warn 
the  man,  then,  if  he  didn't  "cut  it  out,"  to  tell 
the  Judge. 

This  was  a  very  delicate  part  of  the  Judge's 
policy,  and  many  a  man  will  shake  his  head 
over  it.  We  all  despise  spying.  But  boys  de- 
spise it  more  than  men,  and  I  know  no  better 
way  to  prove  that  the  Judge  made  it  clear  and 
right  than  by  stating  that  the  boys  of  Denver, 
the  "big  fellers,"  approved  the  doctrine  and 
practised  it.  Take  the  "  Battle- Axe  gang "  of 
Globeville,  for  example.  Globeville  is  a  suburb  of 
Denver,  and  the  Battle- Axes  were  the  toughest 
"fellers"  over  there.  Their  leaders  were  three 
brothers,  known  as  the  Cahoots  —  "  Big  Cahoot," 
"Middle  Cahoot,"  and  "Little  Cahoot."  The 
whole  gang  frequented  dives,  drank,  smoked, 
chewed  (they  were  named  after  their  favourite 
brand  of  plug  tobacco);  they  did  everything  that 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  219 

men  did,  and  other  things  besides.  The  Judge 
got  hold  of  this  gang,  in  the  usual  way;  one  or 
two  were  arrested,  won  over,  and  persuaded  to 
bring  in  the  rest.  They  all  came,,  and  were 
interested  in  the  game  of  correction.  The  good 
they  could  do,  the  Judge  told  them,  was  to  help 
enforce  the  laws  of  the  kids'  Court.  They  did  it, 
too.  They  had  trouble  at  first.  One  day  Big 
Cahoot  went  to  a  saloon  where  some  of  the  little 
fellers  in  his  gang  had  bought  tobacco.  He 
told  the  man  about  the  law  and  asked  him  not 
to  sell  to  any  Battle-Axes.  The  saloon-keeper, 
taken  aback,  became  angry,  and  started  for  the 
boy.  Big  Cahoot  wasn't  afraid.  He  stood  his 
ground;  there  was  a  fight,  and  the  young  tough 
was  kicked  out  into  the  street.  But  he  told  the 
Judge,  and  the  Judge  sent  the  man  to  jail  for 
fifteen  days.  After  that  it  was  easier  for  the  boys, 
who  are  still  reporting  to  the  Judge  that  the  law 
is  respected  "over  in  Globeville"  and  that  "the 
Battle-Axes  are  doin'  all  right." 

One  curious  development  of  this  policy  was 
that  many  of  the  liquor  dealers,  having  been  made 
to  understand  what  all  this  meant  to  the  children, 
came  to  like  the  Judge  and  to  help  him  to  carry 
out  his  policy.     The  Baker  case  will  illustrate. 

One  day  a  girl  was  brought  in.  She  told  her 
story;  it  was  a  wine-room  story,  and  the  Judge 


220  UPBUILDERS 

had  the  wine-room  keeper,  Baker,  arrested.  He 
tried  him  in  the  Juvenile  Court,  and  sent  him  up 
for  sixty  days. 

"The  girl  I  kept  on  probation,"  he  says,  "and 
I  was  talking  to  her  one  day  —  the  day  before 
Christmas  —  when  I  was  told  that  a  boy,  Paul 
Baker,  wanted  to  see  me.  Putting  the  girl  in  a 
side  room,  I  had  the  boy  in.  He  was  a  handsome, 
wholesome  little  fellow,  and  he  came  up  to  my 
table,  halting,  but  with  a  frank  look  on  his  face. 

"'Judge,'  he  said,  *you  put  my  papa  in  jail, 
but  everybody  says  that  you  like  boys  and  do  all 
you  can  to  help  a  boy.  So  I  came  to  ask  you 
to  let  my  father  come  home  for  Christmas.'" 

He  began  to  cry,  and  the  Judge  spoke. 

"Yes,  I  like  boys,"  he  said,  "and  I  like  men, 
too.  Do  you  think  I  dislike  your  father  ?  Not 
a  bit!  I  was  sorry  to  put  him  in  jail.  And  did 
it  never  occur  to  you  that  it  wasn't  I  that  put 
him  in  jail  ?  It  was  the  Law.  And  the  Law  is 
right.     Do  you  know  what  your  father  did.?" 

The  boy  knew.  "Well,  I  like  little  girls  as 
well  as  I  like  boys,  and  you  know  that  wine- 
rooms  are  bad  places  for  little  girls.  This  little 
girl  and  her  mother,  they  are  suffering  just  as 
you  and  your  father  are  suffering;  all  because  he 
broke  the  law." 

The  Judge  sent  for  the  girl,  and  he  introduced 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  221 

the  two  children.  He  drew  the  girl  on  to  tell 
what  "trouble"  the  violation  of  the  law  had 
caused  her  and  her  mother.  The  Judge  ex- 
plained why  she  should  not  hate,  but  be  sorry  for 
the  man,  since  he  was  only  thoughtless,  as  she 
was,  and  was  in  trouble,  too. 

"Here  is  his  son,  Paul,  who  has  come  to  ask 
that  his  father  may  be  allowed  to  come  home  for 
Christmas  to  see  his  family.  His  mother  suffers 
as  yours  does;  his  sister  has  wept  as  you  have 
wept.  It  is  all,  all  trouble,  and  no  one  is  worse 
than  another.  Now,  what  shall  I  do  about 
letting  Mr.  Baker  go  home  for  Christmas.?" 

"Let  him  go,"  the  girl  said,  and  she  and  the 
boy  joined  in  the  plea.     The  Judge  consented. 

When  Paul  brought  in  his  father  to  see  the 
Judge,  on  the  day  after  Christmas,  the  Judge 
sent  the  boy  out  of  the  room,  then  he  praised  the 
son  to  the  father.  It  was  a  pity,  he  said,  to  bring 
up  that  boy  in  such  a  business. 

"Judge,"  the  man  said,  "you  are  right.  I've 
been  thinking  it  all  over  in  jail,  and  I've  made 
up  my  mind  to  get  rid  of  this  business  and  go 
back  to  the  mountains  where  I  came  from." 

The  Judge  did  not  send  Baker  back  to  jail; 
he  suspended  sentence,  as  his  law  authorized  him 
to  do,  and  the  man  did  sell  out  and  go  back  to 
the  mountains.     Now,  when  they  come  to  town. 


222  UPBUILDERS 

he  and  his  boy  always  call  on  the  Judge,  their 
"best  friend." 

"You  see,"  the  Judge  says,  "Baker  wasn't  a 
bad  man.  He  did  a  bad  thing,  and  that  bad 
thing  made  a  little  girl  bad.  But  what  made 
him  do  the  bad  thing  ^  To  make  his  business 
good;  to  increase  his  profits.  But  there  was  the 
Law  and  the  power  of  the  State  to  compel  him 
to  restrict  his  enterprise  within  limits  where  it 
wouldn't  hurt  anybody  else.  That's  where  the 
System  broke  down;  that's  where  it  breaks 
down  all  the  time.     Why  ?" 

Baker  told  him  why.  He  said  that  he  broke 
the  law  because  the  bosses  told  him  he  might. 
He  contributed  to  their  campaign  funds,  paid 
blackmail,  and  furnished  "stufFers"  to  vote,  so 
they  told  him  he  was  "protected."  "Then  you 
came  along.  Judge,  and  you  sent  me  up.  I 
don't  blame  you.  I  blamed  them,  and  I  went 
to  them  for  their  protection.  They  said  they 
couldn't  handle  you.  They  said  they  didn't 
mean  I  could  break  juvenile  laws,  but  they 
didn't  tell  me  that.  I  paid  them,  and  they 
couldn't  deliver  the  goods.  That's  why  I  blame 
them." 

Baker  blamed  the  bosses,  and  so  did  the  other 
saloon-keepers.  So  did  the  people  of  Denver; 
most    of    us    blame    the    political    bosses.     The 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  223 

Judge  himself  blamed  them  for  a  long  while, 
and  he  ought  to  have  known  better.  One  of 
his  first  political  services  was  to  help  Governor 
Thomas  destroy  the  power  of  Boss  Thomas  J. 
Mahoney,  famous  in  Denver  politics.  And  they 
did  destroy  Mahoney's  power.  But  that  made 
no  difference.  Only  the  man  was  down  and 
out;  the  boss  lived.  Who  was  the  boss  of 
the  political  boss  ?  For  whom  was  black- 
mail collected  from  the  saloon-keepers  in 
return  for  which  they  were  permitted  to  break 
the  law,  sell  liquor  to  boys,  and  keep  wine-rooms 
where  girls  might  be  ruined .?  The  parties  ? 
For  whom  did  the  parties  work  ?  The  parties 
worked  for  the  big  business  interests  of  Denver 
and  Colorado,  as  the  Judge  found  out. 

You  hear  in   Denver  that  "the  trouble  with 
Ben  Lindsey  is  that  he  *  butts  into'  everything." 
He   does   and   he   must.     His   critics   mean  that 
Judge  Lindsey  might  solve  the  problem  of  the 
children,  if,  for  their  sake,  he  would  not  inter- 
fere   with    other    evils.     Many'  good    men    and     {?-ACc 
women  adopt  that  policy.     Temperance  reformers,    !  iL  . 
to  get  their  prohibition  laws  through,  trade  votes    j       a 
with  the  railroads;  and  charities  and  churches,       ■-- 
colleges  and  all  sorts  of  benevolent  and  reform 
groups,  to  say  nothing  of  businesses,  professions,     i       ,(jl 
and   interests   generally  —  we,   all    of    us,    are     ^* 


L 


224  UPBUILDERS 

r^tanding  in  with  Evil,  in  the  hope  of  destroying 
\  the  particular  little  evils  against  which  we  are 
fighting.  Lindsey  won't.  This  is  the  institu- 
tional idea;  this  is  the  fallacy  which  makes  men 
sacrifice  civilization  —  for  no  less  is  at  stake  — 
for  their  church,  their  party,  or  their  grocery 
store.  If  Lindsey  should  make  this  common, 
almost  universal,  mistake  he  might  build  up  his 
Juvenile  Court,  they  tell  him,  into  a  national, 
yes,  an  international  institution,  and  send  his 
name  reverberating  down  through  the  ages. 
But  Ben  Lindsey  won't  do  it;  and  he  won't 
because  he  sees  that  he  can't. 

He  can't  for  two  reasons.  One,  as  he  soon 
learned,  is  that  the  problem  of  the  children  isn't 
a  separate  problem.  Ben  Lindsey  discovered 
that  bad  children  are  made  bad  by  the  conditions 
which  men  create.  And  he  went  after  some  of 
those  conditions,  and  when  it  was  found  that  his 
legislation  gave  him  power  over  adults  that  hurt 
children,  as  well  as  over  the  children,  the  leading 
citizens  of  Denver  were  incensed.  Why  ?  His 
authority  over  saloon  and  other  vice  interests 
loosened  the  hold  the  machines  had  over  the  vicious 
elements  of  society,  and  menaced  the  election 
frauds  on  which  the  business  and  political  system 
of  the  state  was  built.  And  Lindsey  saw,  and 
he  was  told  (though  not  in  these  words)  that  the 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  225 

big  men  of  his  state  would  prefer  to  see  children 
hurt  than  business.  So  they  fought  him,  and 
when  he  beat  them,  as  we  have  seen,  with  the 
help  of  the  men,  women,  and  children  of  the 
city,  they  declared  that  he  "had  too  much  work 
to  do,"  and  that  therefore  they  would  take  away 
from  his  Court  jurisdiction  over  adults  who 
contributed  to  the  delinquency  of  children.  In 
other  words,  they  are  indeed  willing  to  let  him  do 
what  he  can  for  the  kids  after  the  harm  is  done, 
but  he  must  not  undermine  the  vice  of  the  city, 
however  much  it  may  injure  youth,  the  foundation 
of  "prosperity." 

Thus  the  first  reason  why  he  can't  let  all  the 
other  evils  go  to  correct  the  one  he  is  after,  was 
his  discovery  that  our  apparently  separate  evils 
are  all  tied  up  together;  they  are  all  one  evil; 
they  are  a  System,  as  he  calls  it,  of  Evil. 

The  second  reason  is  that  Lindsey  is  so  con- 
stituted that  he  must  attack  any  wrong  with 
which  he  comes  in  personal  contact.  We  have 
seen  how,  accidentally,  the  County  Judge  drifted 
into  the  case  of  the  children.  That  was  charac- 
teristic. When  he  was  a  young  lawyer  he  was 
beaten  in  a  damage  suit  against  the  street  railway 
by  a  "fixed"  jury.  Inquiring  into  the  matter, 
he  learned  that  jury-fixing  was  a  common  prac- 
tice, and  he  attacked  that  practice.     He  drew  a 


226  Ut^BUILDERS 

bill  to  enable  a  majority  of  jurors  to  render  a 
verdict.  The  company  offered  his  firm  an  an- 
nual retainer,  but  Lindsey  declared  that  it  was  a 
bribe  and  refused  it.  "This  was  my  first  sight 
of  the  grand  System,"  he  says,  "but  I  didn't 
recognize  it  as  such.  I've  learned  since  that 
this  is  the  way  the  interests  get  their  first  hold 
on  promising  or  troublesome  young  lawyers." 
Lindsey  put  his  bill  through.  Challenged  as 
unconstitutional,  it  was  first  upheld,  then 
thrown  out  by  the  Supreme  Court  of  Colorado; 
"which  gave  me  my  first  sight  of  the  Supreme 
Court  as  a  part  of  the   System,"  he  says. 

His  practice  developed  along  probate  lines, 
and  he  found  the  laws  obscure  and  unfair.  He 
revised  them,  and  his  revision,  enacted,  has  been 
highly  praised  by  the  law  journals.  Indeed,  his 
knowledge  of  probate  law  was  one  of  the  justifi- 
cations for  putting  so  young  a  man  on  the  county 
bench.  Lindsey  is  the  author  of  the  present 
election  laws  of  his  state.  Everybody  was  com- 
plaining of  the  old  laws,  but  nothing  was  done 
about  them  till  Lindsey  went  to  work  and  got 
them  changed.  I  could  go  on  for  a  page  with 
practical  reforms  taken  up  by  this  man,  all  of 
them  suggested  by  his  accidental,  personal  contact 
with  evils,  and  all  having  nothing  to  do  with 
children.     If  Judge  Lindsey  had  never  heard  of 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  227 

the  problem  of  the  children  he  would  have  been 
known  as  a  man  doing  a  man's  work  for  men. 

But  the  incident  in  his  career  which  will  show 
this  best  is  his  exposure  of  the  County  Commis- 
sioners.    That  also  was  begun  by  accident. 

At  the  close  of  the  Juvenile  Court  one  Saturday 
afternoon,  the  Judge  picked  up  idly  from  the 
clerk's  desk  a  paper,  which,  as  he  talked,  he 
glanced  at.  **To  1,000  sheets  paper,  foSo." 
It  was  a  bill,  and  the  price  interested  the  Judge. 
He  asked  the  clerk  about  it.  The  clerk  hadn't 
seen  the  bill.  He  "guessed"  it  was  there  by  mis- 
take; bills  didn't  come  to  him;  "must  have  been 
meant  for  the  clerk  of  the  County  Board." 
Lindsey  sent  the  clerk  to  "see  Mr.  Smith,  of  the 
Smith-Brooks  Publishing  Company  (which  fur- 
nished the  paper),  and  ask  if  the  bill  was  correct." 
The  clerk  brought  the  answer  that  his  (Smith's) 
"damned  boy  had  taken  the  bill  to  the  wrong 
place,  and  the  price  was  none  of  our  business." 
The  Judge  sent  to  the  County  Clerk  for  other 
bills  charged  to  the  County  Court. 

"I  was  amazed  at  the  charges,"  he  says.  "Six 
letter  files  at  $6  apiece;  these  cost  me  personally 
twenty-eight  and  thirty  cents  apiece.  Paper  which 
was  charged  for  at  the  rate  of  $^S  a  thousand  I 
could  get  for  $6.  I  spent  the  night  on  those  bills, 
and  the  next   (Sunday)   morning  I   took   expert 


228  UPBUILDERS 

advice.  I  found  that  the  County  was  paying 
several  hundred  per  cent,  too  much  for  all  suppHes 
to  my  Court." 

As  with  the  children  and  as  wit  the  Police 
Board,  the  Judge  wished  to  give  the  County 
Commissioners  a  hearing,  so  he  wrote  them  a 
letter  containing  the  facts.  "I  thought  prob- 
ably they  didn't  know  about  these  overcharges. 
I  didn't  want  to  misjudge  them,  and  I  wanted 
to  examine  into  the  situation  with  them  privately 
and  personally.  I  believe  if  they  had  come  up 
with  the  truth,  I'd  have  been  satisfied  if  they 
had  promised  to  cut  it  out." 

The  Judge  received  no  reply  to  his  letter. 
He  sent  another,  and  still  no  response;  that  is  to 
say,  none  that  was  direct.  There  was  an  in- 
direct response,  however,  which  interested  the 
Judge  profoundly.  Both  the  Police  and  the 
County  Boards  of  Denver  were  bi-partisan,  but 
the  fighting  line  in  the  politics  of  the  city  was  a 
machine,  not  a  party  Hne,  and  the  Police  and  the 
County  Boards  were  at  odds.  The  County 
Board  had  appointed  Lindsey  a  judge.  When 
he  went  after  the  Police  Board,  Frank  Adams, 
the  president,  unable  to  believe  in  honesty  and 
sincerity,  had  looked  around  for  an  explanation 
of  "Lindsey's  enmity"  to  him;  and  the  theory 
he  fixed  upon  was  that  Lindsey,  out  of  gratitude 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  229 

to  the  County  Board  for  his  job,  was  "hurting 
the  party"  to  help  Frank  Bishop,  the  president 
of  the  County  Board,  who  was  a  candidate  for 
the  nomination  for  Governor  of  Colorado.  So 
now,  when  Ben  "got  after  Frank  Bishop's 
Board,"  he  puzzled  Frank  Adams  and  all  the  other 
men  in  Denver  who,  to  account  for  the  conduct 
of  others,  read  their  own  souls. 

"What  does  Ben  mean?  Is  he  an  ingrate  .^ 
You  go  ask  him  what  the  hell  he  means."  This 
was  said  by  Commissioner  Watts  to  the  Judge's 
clerk,  whom  the  Board  had  also  "given  his  job." 
Cass  Harrington  called;  the  attorney  to  the 
County  Board,  this  man  had  resigned  to  be  "of 
counsel"  to  the  Colorado  Fuel  &  Iron  Company. 
Others  called,  many  prominent  men.  "This 
stealing,"  the  Judge  says,  "had  friends,  political 
and  business  friends,  and  they  were  powerful 
men,  all  of  them."  He  saw  that  he  would  also 
need  friends,  so  the  Judge  paid  some  visits.  He 
called  on  some  other  judges;  he  told  them  the 
facts,  and  he  asked  them  to  move  with  him  for 
an  investigation.     They  wouldn't. 

"Why,  Judge,"  said  one  of  them,  "you  have 
your  hands  full  now.  You  are  doing  more  than 
two  or  three  men  can  do.  You  oughtn't  to  want 
to  know  about  this.  I  don't.  That  would  make 
me  responsible,  and  I  don't  want  to  have  anything 


230  UPBUILDERS 

to  do  with  It.  Go  to  the  District-attorney. 
.  .  .  Well,  then,  that  means  that  you  know 
what  politics  is  in  this  town.  My  advice  to  you 
is,  let  the  whole  thing  alone." 

This  from  a  judge!  And  other  officials  took 
the  same  view  or  a  similar  view:  "You  can't  do 
anything";  or  "The  County  Board  appointed 
you;  I  believe  in  sticking  by  your  friends";  or 
"It  will  ruin  you,  Judge";  or  "It  will  spoil  your 
work  for  the  children." 

The  Judge  went  on  investigating,  and  the 
evidence  he  discovered  and  the  things  his 
"friends"  told  him  to  stop  him,  showed  him  that 
this  County  graft  was  well  known,  and  that  it 
was  but  a  small  part  of  a  system  of  graft.  For 
example,  business  men  were  in  on  the  deals; 
each  commissioner  had  merchants  for  graft- 
partners.  And  besides,  the  County  Board  was 
a  board  of  tax  revision;  it  had  remitted  the  taxes 
of  public  service  corporations,  and  it  could  "hurt" 
or  "help"  property-holders  generally.  But  the 
Judge  got  help.  Some  of  the  early  commissioners 
"snitched"  to  the  Judge;  they  didn't  snitch  like 
the  boys,  "on  the  square" — they  "squealed"  to 
save  themselves,  and  the  others  squealed  on  the 
squealers  to  get  even.  Oh,  he  got  the  facts !  He 
appointed  a  committee  to  investigate,  and  the 
committee  reported  the  facts  —  to  the  Judge. 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  231 

A  concerted  effort  was  made  to  have  the  Judge 
suppress  his  report.  Many  respectable  friends  of 
the  grafters  went  to  the  front  for  graft.  They 
pretended  to  represent  "business,"  the  "party," 
"the  fair  fame  of  Denver,"  etc.  They  used  the 
names  of  United  States  Senators  Patterson  and 
Teller.  They  were  panic-stricken.  As  for  the 
Judge,  he  was  awed  at  the  show  of  influence. 
"And,"  he  says,  "I  was  really  in  doubt  lest  I 
might  be  doing  a  great  harm  to  accomplish  a 
little  good."  But  he  was  reassured.  He  sounded 
the  United  States  Senators,  and  both  Mr.  Patter- 
son and  Mr.  Teller  sent  back  word  to  "go  ahead 
and  show  up  the  grafters  regardless  of  party." 
That  was  the  first  encouragement  the  Judge  got. 
Finally,  three  of  the  County  Commissioners 
called,  and  their  pleadings  decided  him.  They 
also  prayed  in  the  name  of  "the  party,"  the 
"credit  of  business,"  Denver,  gratitude,  their 
families;  but  —  there  was  no  word  about  stopping 
the  stealing!  The  Judge  pubUshed  the  report 
in  the  Democratic  newspaper,  the  News. 

The  County  Board  had  to  act;  and  it  began 
with  an  investigation  of  its  own — a  farce,  of  course. 
"  One  thing  I  learned  from  it,  however,"  the  Judge 
says,  "  and  that  was  that  many  men  of  business 
are  cowards.  The  same  experts  who  had  told 
me   that  the   commissioners  were  thieves,   went 


232  UPBUILDERS 

on  the  stand  and  perjured  themselves."  And 
their  perjury  was  all  in  vain.  District-attorney 
Lindsley  had  to  act.  Lindsley  is  the  man  who 
got  his  office  when  Lindsey  wanted  it,  and  the 
Judge  urged  him  now  to  do  what  he,  himself,  had 
thought  of  doing:  use  the  power  of  the  public 
prosecutor  to  prosecute  public  criminals  and 
clean  up  the  city.  Lindsley  wouldn't;  he  was 
in  the  gang,  and  other  gangsters  said  he  didn't 
dare.  He  proposed  that  the  Judge  meet  with  a 
committee  of  the  party  leaders  and  discuss  what 
should  be  done.  The  Judge  refused.  And  the 
newspapers  made  demands.  So  Lindsley  had 
to  make  a  show  of  action.  He  called  on  the 
Judge  and  talked  about  doing  his  duty.  He  has 
a  peculiar  whine,  Lindsley  has,  and  in  that 
whining  way  he  protested  to  the  Judge  that  while 
he  didn't  believe  the  commissioners  could  be 
convicted,  he  would  do  his  duty.  Judge  Lindsey 
happened  to  go  down  to  the  Democratic  Club 
right  after  this  talk,  and  he  found  Lindsley  there 
drinking  with  one  of  the  accused  commissioners. 
And  the  information  that  this  District-attorney 
drew  was  under  a  statute  which  limited  the 
penalty  to  ^300  fine  and  removal  from  office. 

The  newspapers,  principally  Senator  Patter- 
son's, forced  this  case  to  trial.  District-attorney 
Lindsley    refused    to    appear    in    it    himself;    he 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  233 

appointed  a  deputy,  George  Allan  Smith,  who, 
the  Judge  says,  was  faithful.  (And  evidently  he 
was,  for  he  was  forced  to  resign  after  the  trial.) 
No  local  judge  cared  to  sit  on  the  case,  so  a  judge 
of  the  Pueblo  district  (controlled  by  the  Colorado 
Fuel  &  Iron  Company)  was  called  in.  For  the 
grafters  appeared  Charles  J.  Hughes,  a  leading 
attorney  for  the  corrupt  corporations  of  Colorado 
(since  elected  a  United  States  Senator).  The 
story  of  the  trial  is  a  story  of  "jury  work,"  stolen 
papers,  conspiracies  and  plots,  and  an  attempt 
to  brand  Judge  Lindsey  as  "an  ingrate"  (to  the 
System),  a  "reformer,'*  and  a  "grand-stand 
player."  (How  they  do  hate  to  have  a  man 
serve  and  appeal  to  the  people!)  Nobody  ex- 
pected anything  but  a  verdict  of  acquittal,  and 
then  Judge  Lindsey  was  to  have  been  put  on  trial. 
But  the  jury  convicted  those  grafters.  How 
it  happened  I  couldn't  learn.  Somebody  blun- 
dered, I  heard.  The  jurors  apologized;  the 
District- attorney  apologized;  the  very  judge 
apologized.  Judge  Voorheis  delivered  from  the 
bench  to  those  prisoners  at  the  bar  a  speech  which 
was  eulogistic  of  them.  He  spoke  of  their  stand- 
ing and  usefulness  as  Christian  gentlemen  and 
good  citizens.  He  said  they  were  victims  of  an 
evil  System.  He  regretted  that  he  had  to  impose 
any  punishment,  but  he  must;  so  he  gave  the 


234  UPBUILDERS 

smallest  penalty  provided  by  the  law:  "Ten  dollars 
and  costs! " 

The  learned  judge  was  right:  there  is  a 
System,  and  the  penalties  that  System  imposed 
upon  Judge  Lindsey  were  not  light.  His  sentence 
was  destruction.  Knowing  that  money  couldn't 
prostitute  him,  women  were  tried.  The  janitor 
of  the  County  Court  House  wouldn't  clean  Lind- 
sey's  court-room  and  so  neglected  his  closet  that 
the  Board  of  Health  had  to  interfere.  He  was 
cut  on  the  street  by  other  officials  and,  to  avoid 
hearing  himself  called  insulting  names,  had  to 
stay  away  from  his  club.  His  party  council 
allowed  the  convicted  County  Commissioners  to 
name  their  successors  and  to  reject  from  the 
platform  a  plank  declaring  for  honesty  in  office. 

This  persecution  continued  for  a  year  or  two 
and,  it  must  be  confessed,  the  Judge  was  aggra- 
vating. He  not  only  refused  to  surrender;  he 
went  right  on  fearlessly  supporting  in  public 
every  good  reform  measure  and  movement  that 
anybody  proposed.  For  example,  a  convention, 
called  for  by  the  so-called  Rush  Amendment  to 
the  State  Constitution,  drew  for  Denver  a  good, 
new,  home-rule  charter.  The  big  business  in- 
terests "had  to"  beat  it,  however,  because  it 
gave  the  people  a  vote  on  all  franchise  grants 
and  permitted  municipal  ownership.     The  only 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  235 

way  to  beat  it  was  to  have  the  ballot-boxes 
stuffed.  Yet,  when  some  inexperienced  young 
men  organized  a  League  for  Honest  Elections, 
this  County  Judge  came  down  off  the  bench  to 
help  the  league.  And,  as  usual,  his  speech 
was  no  mere  perfunctory  address  on  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  ballot-box;  he  named  names,  and  he 
named  not  merely  the  despised  agents  who  did 
the  dirty  work;  Judge  Lindsey  called  the  roll 
of  the  officials  who  employed  and  protected  the 
ballot-box  stuffers!  The  people,  already  aroused, 
became  so  inflamed  that  finally  their  rulers  had 
to  elect  a  pretty  good  charter  themselves. 

Do  you  see  the  situation  ?  Do  you  see  Ben 
Lindsey  doing  his  duty,  all  of  it,  not  only  as  a 
judge  of  children,  but  as  County  Judge,  and  not 
only  as  a  judge  on  the  bench,  but  as  a  man 
on  the  bench  and  off  it  ?  and  fighting  all  the 
while  for  his  life;  cheerfully,  without  malice,  but 
without  fear .?  Paul  Thieman  in  the  Denver 
Post  once  called  Ben  Lindsey  "the  first  citizen 
of  Colorado,"  and  declared  that,  not  the  mines 
and  the  mills,  not  the  railroads,  the  farms,  and 
the  banks,  but  Ben  Lindsey's  work  was  "the 
greatest  thing  the  state  has  produced."  And 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  history  of  man, 
this  is  true.  It  looks  absurd  from  a  shop  window, 
but   Paul   Thieman   was   seeing   things   through 


236  UPBUILDERS 

the  eyes  of  a  little  boy  he  mentions,  who,  sitting 
silent  one  day  watching  the  Judge  deal  out  justice, 
suddenly  rushed  up  and  kissed  him  on  the  cheek. 
"I  love  you!"  the  child  said. 

The  test  came  at  the  elections  of  1904.  The 
Judge  had  to  run  then,  and  he  sought  the  office. 
"I  had  to,"  he  says  apologetically;  "my  work 
was  only  just  begun."  His  enemies  meant  to 
defeat  him.  Who  were  his  enemies  ?  There 
was  Frank  Adams  and  his  Police  Board,  whose 
co-partnership  with  vice  and  crime  he  had 
exposed  and  disturbed;  they  were  still  in  office 
and  powerful  in  his  party.  Then  there  were  the 
County  Commissioners  whom  he  had  driven  to 
trial  for  grafting;  they  controlled  the  County 
Board,  and  the  party  machinery.  These  two 
groups  with  all  their  followers  hated  the  just 
Judge,  of  course,  and  they  proposed  to  beat  him 
openly  for  the  nomination.  But  wiser  counsels 
prevailed.  Other,  cooler  enemies,  passed  the 
word  to  beat  him  quietly.  Lindsey  was  "popu- 
lar" with  the  women  and  children,  the  leaders 
said,  and  —  women  vote  in  Colorado.  The  big 
leaders  advised  caution,  and  the  scheme  was  to 
make  him  decline  the  nomination  himself.  They 
proposed  to  nominate  as  his  associate  on  the 
County  Bench  a  man  who  was  "going  to  knock 
out  all  this  kid   business."     They  expected  the 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  237 

Judge  to  revolt,  and  he  did;  he  said  he  would 
"denounce  his  fellow-candidate  from  the  stump." 
This  was  the  excuse  the  Democrats  wanted,  and 
they  decided  to  drop  the  Judge. 

But  a  hitch  occurred.  There  was  a  row  in 
the  Republican  party,  and  the  dominant  state 
leader,  to  affront  the  Denver  boss,  William  G. 
Evans,  nominated  Judge  Lindsey  on  the  Repub- 
lican ticket.  This  put  the  Democrats  in 
an  awkward  attitude.  They  demanded  that 
Lindsey  be  loyal  to  his  own  party  and  decline 
the  Republican  nomination.  He  refused.  They 
offered  him  a  better  associate  judge,  if  he  would 
run  only  on  the  Democratic  ticket.  But  the 
Judge  knew  that  they  meant  to  knife  him,  so  he 
accepted  their  associate,  but  declared  he  would 
accept  any  and  all  nominations  from  all  parties. 
And  he  did.  And  his  party  decided  again  not 
to  nominate  him.  This  was  three  days  before 
the  convention,  but  that  was  time  enough  for  the 
Judge. 

He  went  to  the  people.  He  published  an  open 
letter  in  the  Denver  Post.  The  newsboys,  all 
friends  of  the  Judge,  cried  it  as  news,  and  not 
only  that,  they  sent  kids  as  couriers  to  raise  the 
gangs.  Men  took  the  letter  home,  and  mothers 
turned  out.  But  the  children  were  before  them. 
They  poured  out  into  the  streets  and,  collected 


238  UPBUILDERS 

and  organized  by  the  newsboys,  marched  up  and 
down  the  main  streets,  yelling  for  Lindsey. 
By  the  time  the  procession  had  reached  the  Demo- 
cratic Club,  the  cries  of  the  children  had  developed 
into  a  song  which  they  sang  as  they  marched 
and  countermarched  and  halted  before  the  club: 

"Who,  which,  when  ? 
Wish  we  was  men, 
So  we  could  vote  for  our  little  Ben.** 

And  they  kept  it  up  all  that  night  and  all  the 
next    day.     It    was    most   embarrassing   to   the 

politicians.     "Little    sons    of   !"    exclaimed 

a  leader  in  the  club,  "they  are  doing  more  than 
anybody  else  to  beat  us."  But  the  answer  was 
that  cry  from  the  street,  "Who,  which,  when.?" 
All  day  long,  everywhere,  the  boys  kept  at  it. 
And  then  the  mothers  of  the  city  held  a  mass- 
meeting  at  the  Women's  Club.  And  then  there 
was  a  mass-meeting  of  men,  women,  and  children 
in  the  Opera  House. 

Ben  Lindsey  was  nominated,  "amid  howls  and 
curses"  —  and  on  his  own  terms,  on  his  own  party 
ticket,  and  all  other  tickets,  excepting  only  that 
of  the  Socialists.  Nominated  by  the  people, 
he  was  elected  by  their  unanimous  vote;  but  that 
didn't  settle  it. 

The  Judge  believed  that  the  election  of  two 
County  Judges  was  unconstitutional;   if  it  was, 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  239 

the  Mayor  of  the  city  would  have  to  choose 
between  him  and  his  colleague.  The  Mayor, 
Robert  Speer,  was  a  Democrat  and  the  leader 
of  Lindsey's  party.  The  Judge  asked  him 
whom  he  would  choose.  This  Democratic  Mayor 
said  he  would  have  to  consult  with  William  G. 
Evans,  the  Republican  boss,  before  he  could 
answer,  and  he  did  see  Mr.  Evans  and  the 
answer  was  that  there  would  be  no  choice; 
the  spring  election  was  legal  and  would  stand. 
But  if  it  should  not  be  held  legal,  then,  the 
Mayor  made  plain.  Judge  Lindsey  would  not  be 
the  Judge. 

"That's  enough  for  me,"  said  Lindsey.  "I 
fight."  And  he  went  forth  to  fight.  He  went 
to  the  editors  of  Senator  Patterson's  two  papers, 
the  News  and  the  Times,  and  to  the  Denver 
Post.  They  sounded  the  alarm,  and  they  kept 
It  up,  too.  Paul  Thieman  rehearsed  the  whole 
story  of  the  kid's  Judge  as  a  serial.  The  people 
began  to  be  interested,  but  they  were  too  late; 
the  conventions  of  both  parties  met  and  ad- 
journed without  nominating  the  Judge,  and 
"Bill"  Evans  left  for  New  York. 

Mayor  Speer,  the  Democrat,  was  in  charge 
of  this  business  for  both  parties,  but  he  could 
not  control  the  younger  Republicans.  They 
made  such  a  fuss  that  the  older  leaders  consented 


240  UPBUILDERS 

to  recall  the  convention.  It  was  to  nominate 
Lindsey,  of  course,  but  this  "matter  of  course" 
was  so  insisted  upon  by  the  System's  organ,  the 
Republican,  that  Lindsey  became  suspicious.  He 
inquired,  and  he  heard  the  night  before  the 
convention  that  all  this  talk  was  part  of  the  game 
to  keep  the  young  Republicans  away  from  the 
convention;  another  man  was  to  be  nominated 
in  the  Judge's  place. 

Lindsey  called  up  his  friends  among  the  dele- 
gates, and  the  young  men  wanted  to  give  up. 
The  caucus  had  been  held;  the  slate  was  fixed; 
it  was  too  late  to  make  a  fight.  The  Judge 
wouldn't  hear  of  quitting,  however,  so,  in  their 
desperation,  one  of  them  suggested  seeing  David 
H.  MofFatt.  Mr.  MofFatt  is  the  leading  banker 
and  financier  of  Colorado,  and  to  go  to  him  was 
to  appeal  over  the  heads  of  all  the  political 
bosses  and  the  apparent  business  bosses  to  the 
very  head  of  the  System.  MofFatt  was  the  man 
to  go  to,  but  Lindsey  didn't  know  MofFatt. 

"Well,  you  know  Walter  Cheesman;  go  to 
him." 

Walter  Cheesman  was  a  religious  man,  very 
rich  and  benevolent  and  an  active  supporter 
of  the  Humane  Society  and  of  Lindsey's  Juvenile 
Improvement  Society.  So  the  Judge  knew  Mr. 
Cheesman,  but  it  was  not  because  of  his  benevo- 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  241 

lence  that  those  young  men  suggested  seeing  him. 
Walter  Cheesman  was  president  of  the  Denver 
Water  Company,  and  therefore  "had  to"  be  part 
of  the  System  which  causes  the  corruption  and 
the  evils  that,  as  a  philanthropist,  he  "had  to" 
contribute  money  to  ameliorate. 

The  Judge  went  to  see  the  philanthropist.  He 
told  Mr.  Cheesman  about  the  plot  and  the  caucus. 

"You,  Mr.  Cheesman,  you  know,"  he  said, 
"what  I  have  done  in  that  office.  You  know 
I  have  slaved  and  worked  and  fought;  that  it 
has  been  often  a  hell  on  earth.  You  know,  too, 
that  I  have  saved  the  county  very  much  money, 
in  many  ways;  that  I  have  tried  to  walk  straight 
and  do  right;  and  that  I  have  begun  for  the 
children  a  work  that  must  not  stop  now." 

"Judge,"  said  Mr.  Cheesman,  "I  am  sorry, 
and  I  have  just  been  talking  to  Mr.  Field  about 
your  case." 

Mr.  Field  ?  Mr.  Field  was  the  president  of 
the  Telephone  Company,  another  privileged 
business.  The  Judge  was  seeing  the  System 
plainly. 

"Mr.  Field  and  I  discussed  the  case.  Judge," 
said  Mr.  Cheesman,  "and  we  are  very  sorry, 
but  we  can  do  nothing.  With  us,  politics  is 
business  and  —  business  comes  first.  You  might 
as  well  understand  it.     My  advice  to  you  is  to 


242  UPBUILDERS 

let  go  the  judgeship,  and  the  Children's  Court. 
Mr.  Shattock  will  be  nominated  by  the  Repub- 
lican convention;  Mr.  Johnson  will  be  nominated 
by  the  Democratic  convention.  That's  certain. 
And  I  want  to  give  you  one  bit  of  advice.  Don't 
you  run  independent.  I  know  what  I'm  talking 
about.     You  can't  be  elected." 

So  that  was  the  situation;  that  was  the  System. 
The  Judge  rose: 

"I'm  going  to  fight,"  he  said,  **and  I'm  going 
to  fight  till  I'm  licked  good  and  hard."  , 

He  went  back  and  he  told  his  young  men. 
There  was  no  time  to  appeal  to  the  voters,  but 
it  wasn't  necessary.  Those  young  men  scoured 
the  town;  they  filled  the  streets  and  the  conven- 
tion hall.  The  excitement  was  intense.  Speer, 
the  Democrat,  wired  to  Evans,  the  Republican, 
that  the  Republicans  were  pulling  away,  and 
that  if  they  did,  the  Democrats  would  have  to 
quit,  too.  Evans  wired  his  orders  back,  but 
Lindsey  was  nominated  by  the  Republicans, 
and  the  Democrats  had  to  nominate  him.  They 
had  to  nominate  and  run  their  whole  County 
ticket  over  again,  and  (this  is  the  funniest  thing 
that  I  know  in  politics)  the  Democratic  gang 
that  had  hatched  this  scheme  to  "lose  Lindsey 
somehow  in  the  mix-up"  — these  grafters,  elected 
in   the   spring   and    settled    at   their   graft,   were 


BEN  LINDSEY,  THE  JUST  JUDGE  243 

defeated  in  the  fall !  Lindsey  alone  was  reelected. 
And  the  Supreme  Court  did  declare  the  spring 
election  void.  The  gang  had  beaten  themselves. 
And  the  people  —  the  v^omen,  the  children,  the 
honest  men  of  Denver  —  they  had  saved  Ben 
Lindsey. 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS:  A  BUSINESS 
REFORMER 

IT  IS  important  to  know  Rudolph  Spreckels. 
He  is  a  business  man.  He  never  has  been 
anything  but  a  business  man.  He  did  not  go  to 
college  and,  except  for  some  interrupted  private 
schooling  and  tutoring,  all  the  education  he  ever 
had  was  in  business.  That  was  thorough  and 
practical.  It  began  when,  as  a  boy,  he  sat, 
silent,  listening  to  his  father  and  older  brothers 
talking  business  at  home.  And  he  caught  the 
spirit  of  modern  business.  His  boyish  ambition, 
confessed  to  the  amusement  of  the  family,  was 
to  be  a  millionaire.  That  was  all.  He  didn't 
mean  to  run  a  locomotive,  find  the  North  Pole, 
write  a  sonnet,  or  set  the  world  on  fire.  He 
didn't  dream  even  of  the  management  of  some 
great  business.  No,  young  Rudolph  looked  past 
the  work  to  the  end  thereof;  he  was  "for  results." 
He  wanted  millions.  And  he  succeeded;  before 
he  was  twenty-six  he  was  able  to  retire  a  million- 
aire, self-made. 

Certain   events   in   the   business   world    called 
him  back  to  life  in  a  year  or  two,  and  —  to  get 

244 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  ^45 

to  the  point  — this  rich  young  man  of  business 
went  in  for  political  reform  in  his  city.  That 
alone  is  important,  but  that  doesn't  half  express 
Rudolph  Spreckels's  mind.  He  has  said  that 
he  will  devote  the  rest  of  his  life  —  and,  if  need 
be,  his  fortune  —  to  reform :  general  reform. 
For  when  he  has  "made  good"  in  San  Francisco, 
he  proposes  to  try  some  other  cities.  New 
York  attracts  him;  so  do  Chicago  and  Denver. 

New  York  will  arch  its  brows  and  smile; 
Chicago  may  laugh.  But  Rudolph  Spreckels  has 
tackled  big  men  and  big  jobs;  he  never  has 
failed;  he  is  unlicked.  He  has  "hate  of  hate, 
scorn  of  scorn."  He  doesn't  care  who  laughs 
first.     With  his  quizzical,  winning  smile,  he  says: 

"I  don't  care  who  sneers  in  the  beginning,  or 
who  doubts.  I  don't  doubt.  I  fix  my  eyes  on 
a  purpose,  and  —  I'm  sure  of  the  end." 

It  won't  do  to  waive  this  man  lightly  aside. 
He  has  health  and  youth,  will-power,  and  per- 
sistence, and  ability.  This  young  captain  of 
industry  is  the  kind  of  man  that  has  done  ro 
much  evil  in  this  country.  He  was  born  and 
bred  to  the  type  that  has  built  and  robbed  rail- 
roads, "made"  and  unmade  states;  corrupting 
business  and  courts  and  governments,  but  — 
accomplishing  its  end.  When  the  goal  of  such 
a  man  is  the  creation  of  a  monopoly  of  all  the 


246  UPBUILDERS 

food  or  all  the  oil  or  all  the  steel  in  our  world, 
we  take  him  seriously — too* late.  I  think  that 
Rudolph  Spreckels,  capitaHst,  bank  president, 
captain  of  industry,  who,  at  thirty-five,  has  de- 
voted his  knowledge  of  men  and  business  methods 
good  and  bad;  his  patient  impatience;  his  talent 
for  organization  and  his  executive  ability,  to 
reform  in  the  united  cities  of  America  —  such  a 
man  is  worth  our  study. 

At  any  rate,  he  is  the  political  ideal  of  the  busi- 
ness world.  All  over  the  country  I  have  heard 
business  men  say  that  what  we  want  is  some 
good  business  man  who  will  apply  good  business 
methods  to  politics  and  government  and  give  us 
a  good,  businesslike  administration.  The  effi- 
cacy of  this  solution  is  dubious,  but  never  mind. 
Here  we  have  the  business  men's  dream  come 
true;  here  we  have  the  business  man  "sacrificing 
his  money  and  his  still  more  valuable  time"  to 
the  public  service.  How  do  business  men  receive 
the  devotion  of  Rudolph  Spreckels  ?  Do  they 
like  and  applaud  and  support  him  ? 

No.  Business  men  do  not  like  and  applaud 
and  support  Mr.  Spreckels.  They  denounce 
him  and  they  oppose  him  and  they  oppose  his 
reform.  The  leading  business  men  of  San  Fran- 
cisco hate  and  they  vilify  him,  and  they  oppose 
his    prosecution    of   criminals.     They    and    their 


From  a  photograph  by  Habenicht,  San  Francisco 

RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  247 

organs  fight  on  the  side  of  graft  against  this 
young  business  man  who  has  gone  in  for  politics. 
And  not  only  the  San  Franciscans;  the  business 
men  of  the  East,  and  especially  of  New  York, 
have  turned  their  newspapers  against  him.  And 
Mr.  Spreckels  smiles;  he  expected  all  this.  Why? 
There  was  no  doubt  about  the  badness  of 
politicsJriJSan-Eranciseo.  "  Labour  ruled  there, 
and  the  business  world  has  been  "long"  with 
pity  for  "poor  old  'Frisco."  Why  then  this 
opposition  of  the  San  Francisco  business  men  to 
Mr.  Spreckels  ?  What  do  they  say  against  him  ? 
Not  very  much.  They  attribute  political  ambition 
and,  in  the  same  breath,  a  business  motive  to 
his  efforts  for  political  reform;  they  say  he  wanted 
a  street  railway  franchise  and  sought  to  "get  in 
on"  the  United  (Street)  Railways  of  San  Francisco. 
Patrick  Calhoun  offered  him  an  interest  in  that 
company,  and  Spreckels  declined  it;  and  he  has 
promised  publicly  that  he  will  never  own,  directly 
or  indirectly,  a  share  in  any  public  utility  company 
and  that  he  will  take  no  office  in  the  city  govern- 
ment. Nothing  has  been  produced  from  his 
business  record  against  him.  That  must  be  well 
known,  and  since  it  was  a  record  of  "success,"  I 
expected  to  hear  of  sharp  deals  and  queer  turns; 
but,  no,  nothing  of  the  sort.  Mr.  Spreckels 
must  indeed  be  a  good  business  man.     You  will 


248  UPBUILDERS 

hear,  as  I  did,  that  "Spreckels  got  a  lot  of  people 
into  a  railroad  and  then  sold  it  out  to  the  Santa 
Fe."  That  is  true.  Spreckels  did  that,  but  not 
Rudolph  Spreckels.  That  was  an  act  of  his 
father,  Claus  Spreckels.  Again,  they  asked  me 
if  I  didn't  know  that  the  public  utility  system  of 
San  Diego  was  a  Spreckels  monopoly.  I  did, 
but  I  happened  to  know  what  many  Californians 
seem  not  to  know,  that  the  Spreckels  of  San 
Diego  is  not  Rudolph,  but  a  brother  of  his  and 
a  personal  enemy.  Claus  Spreckels  is  interesting; 
the  whole  Spreckels  family  may  be  well  worth 
knowing,  but  most  of  them  are  in  business  or 
private  life;;  Our  subject  is  Rudolph  Spreckels, 
the  business  reformer;  not  his  family  —  except 
as  "blood  will  tell." 

The  Spreckels  family  is  an  institution  in 
California  and,  generally  regarded  as  a  unit, 
is  not  popular.  The  Spreckelses  fight.  They 
fight  hard.  But  they  don't  fight  together.  They 
are  not  a  unit.  The  family  fights  inside  as  well 
as  out,  and  not  all  the  members  speak  to  one 
another.  They  differ  among  themselves  in  char- 
acter, tastes,  methods,  purposes  and,  apparently, 
in  morals.  All  they  seem  to  have  in  common  is 
a  certain  aggressive  independence.  They  are 
in  business  what  Labour  would  call  "scabs." 
They  work  by  themselves  and  each  by  himself. 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  249 

They  play  with  others,  and  the  family  "stands 
well"  both  downtown  and  up,  but  there  is  more 
fear  than  affection  in  their  social  and  financial 
reception.  They  are  a  family  of  individuals,  and 
individuality  is  offensive  not  alone  to  organized 
labour;  organized  capital  hates  it,  too.  And 
the  Spreckelses  are  capitalists. 

Claus  Spreckels,  the  sugar  magnate,  was  the 
head  of  the  family.  A  German  peasant,  he  came 
to  this  country  when  he  was  about  eighteen  years 
old,  with  two  German  thalers  in  his  pocket.  But 
he  had  the  capitalist's  instinct  in  his  heart.  After 
clerking  one  year  in  a  grocery  store,  he  bought 
the  business — on  credit;  and  he  extended  both. 
In  a  few  years  he  sent  home  to  the  village  next 
to  his  for  the  young  girl  who  became  the  mother 
of  his  family. 

The  Spreckelses  moved  to  California  in  1856, 
opened  a  grocery  store  in  San  Francisco  and  — 
extended  the  business.  Seeing  that  there  was 
money  in  beer,  Claus  Spreckels  built  a  brewery. 
Seeing  that  there  was  money  in  sugar,  he  built 
a  refinery.  There  were  other  refineries;  Claus 
Spreckels  beat  his  competitors,  but  when  the 
American  Sugar  Refining  Company  came  along 
and,  buying  them  up,  offered  to  buy  him  out  or, 
as  Labour  says  of  "scabs,"  "beat  him  up,"  he 
fought.     And  he  fought  not  only  in  self-defence  — 


250    .  UPBUILDERS 

he  took  the  offensive;  he  built  an  independent 
refinery  at  Philadelphia  and,  carrying  the  war 
thus  into  the  enemy's  own  field,  Claus  Spreckels 
compelled  a  division  of  the  territory;  the  Pacific 
Coast  for  his.  Because  of  a  personal  affront 
by  the  president  of  the  Gas  Company  in  San 
Francisco,  he  started  a  rival  concern  and  he 
marked  down  the  price  of  gas  so  low  that  it  never 
did  get  all  the  way  back.  And  because  he  was 
dependent  in  business  on  the  Southern  Pacific 
Railroad  monopoly,  he  did  not  "lie  down";  he 
helped  build  that  competing  line  which  became 
a  part  of  the  Santa  Fe  system. 

"He  sold  out,"  they  say.  Yes,  he  sold  out, 
but  at  his  price,  and  he  never  "stood  in";  he 
never  was  "  satisfied,"  "  safe,"  "  reasonable."  And 
that's  why  "they"  are  down  on  Claus  Spreckels. 
If  he  had  been  "satisfied"  with  his  grocery- 
store,  he  might  have  become  a  patient  grocer.  If 
money  was  all  he  was  after,  he  might  have  been 
a  rich  brewer.  If  he  had  been  "reasonable" 
with  the  Sugar  Trust,  "fair"  to  the  gas  company 
and  had  stood  "in"  with  the  railroad,  he  might 
have  become  an  "organized  capitalist"  and  a 
dummy  director  in  these  and  in  many  other  busi- 
nesses. But  he  must  dominate  whatever  he 
took  part  in.  Impatient,  implacable,  ruthless, 
his  "Dutch  obstinacy"  made  him  fight,  and  the 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  251 

result  was  that  Claus  Spreckels  was  a  captain 
of  industry,  retired,  but  victorious;  not  only 
rich,  but  an  independent  financial  power.  You 
hear  that  his  methods  were  —  those  of  big 
business.  I  don't  know  anything  about  them, 
nor  do  I  care.  It  isn't  the  father  that  is  trying 
to  clean  up  San  Francisco,  it's  the  son. 

And  Rudolph  Spreckels  is  the  son  of  Claus; 
not  only  of  his  loins,  but  of  his  spirit.  He  was 
the  eleventh  or  twelfth  child;  he  couldn't  recall 
which,  oflF  hand,  and  it  does  not  matter,  for  now 
he  is  the  first.  This  masterful  father  tried  to 
dominate  his  masterful  son,  and  they  clinched. 
It  was  a  long,  bitter  business  fight  and,  in  the 
course  of  it,  Rudolph  Spreckels  discovered  that  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  Organized  Capital.  He  learned 
that  a  financial  power  like  Claus  Spreckels  can  close 
all  the  banks  and  shut  off  credit  to  his  "scab" 
enemies.  But  Claus  Spreckels  learned  some 
things,  too  —  among  them  the  character  and 
resources  of  his  own  son. 

"I  never  was  beaten  but  once  in  my  life," 
he  is  quoted  as  saying  not  long  before  his  death, 
"and  that  was  by  my  own  boy." 

This  sounds  like  pride,  and  it  was  known 
in  financial  circles  downtown  that  when  the 
head  of  the  Spreckels  family  went  away,  he  left 
his  affairs  in  the  hands  of  Rudolph,  his  eleventh 


252  UPBUILDERS 

or  twelfth  child,  the  president  of  the  First 
National  Bank. 

Rudolph  is  only  thirty-five  years  old,  but  he 
began  his  career  early.  He  was,  like  Roosevelt, 
an  asthmatic  child,  and  when  the  attacks  were 
upon  him  he  used  to  go  off  by  himself  on  his 
pony,  seeking  relief  "on  the  ranch"  or  in  the 
woods.  When  he  first  disappeared  in  this  sudden 
way,  the  family  was  alarmed,  but  as  he  continued 
to  do  it,  no  further  protests  were  offered.  Self- 
reliant  by  birth,  this  boyish  practice  developed 
that  trait  in  him,  and  some  power  of  reflection, 
too.  For  solitude  is  good  for  the  mind.  But 
Rudolph  could  not  go  regularly  to  school,  and 
his  progress  seemed  to  be  irregular  and  aimless. 

When  he  was  seventeen,  his  father  walked 
into  the  library  one  day  and  bade  him  choose 
on  the  spot  one  of  three  courses:  college;  a 
trip  around  the  world  with  his  tutor;  or  busi- 
ness. Rudolph  chose  business  on  the  spot. 
And,  on  the  spot,  the  father  directed  him  to  go 
to  Philadelphia  and  help  his  brother,  Claus 
Augustus,  run  the  independent  refinery  that  was 
fighting  the  Trust.  The  boy  went  and,  advanced 
rapidly  from  department  to  department,  he 
learned  early  the  principles  of  business  and  — 
the  lack  of  them. 

Young  Rudolph  saw  machinery  destroyed  by 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  253 

his  father's  employees.  Sticks,  stones,  tools 
were  thrown  in  among  the  parts,  which  were 
broken,  of  course.  Watching,  the  boy  caught 
the  vandals  and  learned  that  they  were  bribed 
by  agents  of  the  Trust  to  do  what  they  did ! 

He  saw,  in  the  morning,  pans  of  sugar  spoiled 
during  the  night.  Staying  up  one  night,  the  boy 
tried  to  find  out  who  was  to  blame,  but  he  saw 
no  workman  neglect  his  duty.  Nevertheless,  in 
the  morning  there  was  the  same  old  trouble  with 
the  vacuum  pans.  Rudolph  discharged  the  night 
superintendent,  and,  taking  the  place  himself, 
filled  it  for  four  to  six  months,  and  he  did  the 
work  well  or,  at  any  rate,  honestly.  No  more 
sugar  was  spoiled  at  night. 

In  the  course  of  this  fight,  it  became  manifest 
that  the  Trust  knew  the  secrets  of  their  rivals' 
business.  They  seemed  to  have  each  day  the 
exact  condition  of  the  independent's  stock,  orders 
and  finances.  There  was  a  period  of  mystery 
till  suspicion  settled  upon  the  chief  accountant. 
Shadowing  him,  they  saw  him  copy  the  figures 
and  take  them  to  a  certain  cigar-dealer,  who 
carried  them  in  the  morning  to  the  Trust. 

Thus  it  was  that  before  he  was  twenty  years 
old,  Rudolph  Spreckels  learned  at  first-hand 
that  capital  "throws  bricks";  that  it  "destroys 
property"    and    "hurts   business";    and   that   it 


254  UPBUILDERS 

bribes  men,  not  alone  in  politics,  but  in  business. 
This  schooling  did  not  make  a  cynic  of  him,  how- 
ever, nor  a  "crook."  He  fought  these  methods, 
and  he  beat  them  and  the  Trust. 

At  one  great  crisis  in  the  fight,  when  his  brother 
Gus  was  away  sick,  Rudolph  carried  through  a 
coup  which  is  remembered  yet  in  the  trade. 
The  Spreckelses  were  overstocked  with  sugar; 
all  their  warehouses  were  filled;  great  purchases 
of  raw  were  coming  forward  and,  because  the 
price  was  being  cut  every  few  days,  the  dealers 
were  living  from  hand  to  mouth.  One  night 
Rudolph  (age  eighteen,  remember)  told  his 
city  and  outside  salesmen  to  meet  him  the  next 
morning  at  seven  o'clock.  Allien  they  reported, 
he  bade  them  wire  all  brokers  that  sugar  was  to 
be  advanced  i-i6th  of  a  cent  a  pound.  The 
older  men  were  aghast.  What  if  the  Trust  kept 
the  price  down  ? 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  boy.  "Say  we  will  fill 
immediate  orders  at  the  old  price,  but  after 
that " 

The  orders  came  in  with  a  rush.  Rudolph 
watched  the  Trust.  He  knew  that  he  had  this 
advantage:  he  was  in  command  in  his  refinery. 
In  the  Trust  the  principals  were  probably  away 
from  town  or  not  yet  up;  subordinates  were  in 
command,  and  subordinates  cannot  take  chances 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  255 

on  losing  their  jobs.  They  would  hardly  dare 
take  the  initiative  and  keep  prices  down.  So  he 
reasoned,  and  he  was  right.  The  Trust  followed 
Rudolph  Spreckels's  lead,  and  three  times  that 
day  he  advanced  the  price.  And  he  sold  out  all 
his  stock  and  all  that  he  had  in  sight.  The 
cutting  of  prices  was  resumed,  but  once  again 
the  boy  beat  the  Trust  by  this  same  trick.  And 
so,  before  he  was  twenty,  Rudolph  Spreckels 
measured  himself  with  great  captains  of  industry 
and  —  became  sure  of  himself. 

At  any  rate,  he  was  bold  enough  to  fight  his 
father,  and  he  knew  what  that  meant.  This 
quarrel,  alluded  to  above,  broke  out  during  their 
struggle  with  the  Trust.  On  one  side  were  Gus 
and  Rudolph;  on  the  other,  the  father  and  his 
other  sons.  It  was  a  general  business  row  at 
first,  but  as  it  grew  the  Spreckels  sugar  planta- 
tions on  the  Hawaiian  Islands  became  the  bone 
of  contention.  A  losing  business,  Rudolph  visited 
them;  he  saw  neglect,  mismanagement,  extrava- 
gance and  stealing,  and  he  declared  that  the 
plantations  could  be  made  to  pay.  He  and  Gus 
bought  them;  Rudolph  took  charge  and,  cutting 
out  the  graft  and  introducing  method  and  disci- 
pline, was  getting  things  on  a  paying  basis,  when 
a  crisis  occurred.  They  needed  more  time  and 
money.     The   rest  of  the  family  wouldn't  give 


256  UPBUILDERS 

them  either.  Very  well,  Gus  and  Rudolph 
would  borrow  of  the  banks.  Their  security 
was  good,  the  plantations  were  sure  payers,  but 
the  banks  refused  any  "accommodation."  The 
young  men  went  from  one  bank  to  another  till 
they  realized  that  there  was  an  understanding 
among  these  Organized  Capitalists;  the  word 
had  been  passed  not  to  let  the  two  Spreckels 
boys  have  a  cent.  For  a  while  they  stared  at 
ruin,  but  they  hustled  around  and  finally  found 
a  private  capitalist  who  backed  them;  and  they 
made  good.  They  sold  the  plantation  at  a  price 
which  netted  them  a  fortune  each. 

Rudolph  thought  he  was  through  with  business. 
Investing  his  money  in  real  estate  and  gas  stock, 
he  retired  to  the  country  and,  content  with  his 
rents  and  dividends,  was  neglecting  his  duty  as 
a  stockholder  to  develop  a  beautiful  estate  in 
Sonoma  County,  when  bad  news  came.  His 
father  had  started  the  gas  war  in  San  Francisco. 
It  seemed  that  the  gas  works  were  blowing 
smoke  in  the  old  man's  windows.  He  protested, 
in  vain,  and  one  noon  at  the  Pacific  Union  Club 
he  met  the  president,  Joe  Crockett. 

"Look  here,  Joe,"  he  said,  "I've  had  enough 
of  that  smoke  of  yours.  You'd  better  do  some- 
thing  " 

"The  Club  is  no  place  to  discuss  business," 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  257 

said  Crockett,  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  off. 

Claus  Spreckels  was  amazed,  and  angry. 
"I'll  make  you  regret  this!"  he  said,  and  in 
twenty-four  hours  he  had  organized  the  Inde- 
pendent Gas  and  Electric  Company.  Rudolph 
Spreckels  knew  that  a  fight  with  Claus  Spreckels 
meant  economy  and  able  management  for  the 
old  company.  Gas  was  ;?i.25,  and  the  Inde- 
pendent proposed  to  sell  it  at  75  cents.  When  Ru- 
dolph saw  his  stock  drop  from  85  to  60,  he  came 
to  town  to  attend  to  his  duties  as  a  stockholder 
and — to  learn  what  graft  is  in  business;  and 
what  politics  is  in  business;  and  what  the  relation 
of  said  business  corruption  is  to  political  cor- 
ruption. 

Rudolph  Spreckels  made  some  swift,  super- 
ficial inquiries  about  the  gas  company,  and  he 
heard  that  it  had  a  big  floating  debt.  There 
were  other  signs  of  neglect  in  the  management, 
yes,  and  of  inefficiency.  The  directors  were  all 
"leading  citizens,"  "prominent  business  men," 
"veterans  in  finance."  They  were  just  the  sort 
of  men  that  business  men  would  put  upon  a 
board  of  aldermen  or  supervisors  to  give  good 
business  government.  Yet  this  young  man  found 
that  these  picked  business  directors  were  neg- 
lecting their  duty  to   him  as  a  stockholder,  very 


258  UPBUILDERS 

much  as  his  supervisors  neglected  their  duty  to 
him  as  a  citizen  and  property  holder.  And  that 
wasn't  all:  the  company  wasn't  earning  the  divi- 
dends it  was  paying  to  him!  Why?  The  price 
of  gas  was  high  enough;  gas  companies  elsewhere 
earned  big  dividends  at  a  much  lower  rate,  and 
his  father  was  proposing  to  reduce  the  price  from 
;?i.25  to  75  cents.  Young  Mr.  Spreckels  couldn't 
get  answers  to  his  questions  from  the  officers 
and  directors;  they  wouldn't  listen  to  him.  So 
he  did  as  reformers  do  in  politics;  he  appealed 
"to  the  people,"  and  the  people  heard  him 
gladly.  In  other  words,  the  stockholders  to 
whom  he  addressed  a  circular  elected  Rudolph 
Spreckels  to  the  Board  of  Directors.  Then  he 
found  out  what  the  matter  was. 

I  Those  respectable  old  business  men  on  the 
board  were  dummy  directors.  They  took  orders 
like  our  dummy  legislators,  and,  like  these 
despised  politicians,  were  organized  by  a  boss 
who  ran  this  business    as    our    political    bosses 

^un  cities  and  states,  inefficiently  and  dishonestly. 

Mr.  Spreckels  sent  to  Chicago  for  a  chief  account- 
ant; and  he  sent  so  far  because  he  needed  a  man 
who  would  be  free  from  local  reverence  for  the 
standing  of  the  officers  and  directors  of  the  San 
Francisco  Gas  Company.  He  feared  "pull" 
and  "corruption."     And  the  Chicago  man  came; 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  259 

and  he  soon  was  keen  on  the  scent.  He  became 
excited.  He  was  on  the  track,  he  told  Mr. 
Spreckels,  of  "something  sensational." 

"Go  ahead  and  get  it!"  Mr.  Spreckels  ordered. 

"But,  no";  the  accountant  said  it  was  so  big 
that  he  must  first  have  a  talk  with  his  Chicago 
chief  about  it.  The  Chicago  chief  came;  there 
were  a  few  days  of  mystery,  then  the  accountant 
and  his  chief  both  left  the  coast  together. 

"  I  never  got  that  something  big,"  Mr.  Spreckels 
says  now,  with  a  smile.  He  wasn't  balked, 
however.  He  put  other  investigators  to  work 
and,  though  they  found  nothing  "big,"  they  did 
find  something  small,  very  small.  Besides  gen- 
eral confusion,  mismanagement,  unearned  divi- 
dends and  inefficiency,  there  was  graft.  The 
directors  got  gas,  electric  light,  gas  ranges,  coke, 
and  other  supplies  free.  That  was  their  price, 
perhaps.  That  was  the  way  the  boss,  Joe  Crockett, 
bribed  them,  but  the  business  boss  had  another 
political  method  of  control.  He  gave  places  to 
relatives  and  friends  of  the  directors  and  other 
influential  men.  The  pay-roll  was  "padded," 
like  a  city  pay-roll,  to  make  jobs  for  persons 
with  pull. 

How  can  business  men  despise  politics  so  ? 
How  can  they  pretend  to  dread  the  inefficiency, 
the  pulls  and  the  graft  of  public  ownership  of 


26o  UPBUILDERS 

public  utilities,  when  they  know  that  this  San 
Francisco  Gas  Company  is  a  typical  example 
of  "private"  or  business  management  of  this 
class  of  business  ?  And  Mr.  Spreckels  didn't 
find  out  for  whom  and  for  what  Joe  Crockett 
wanted  to  run  the  company;  but  the  rest  of  us 
have.  We  learned  in  the  life  insurance  and 
railroad  investigations  what  that  "something 
big"  is. 

Mr.  Spreckels  was  busy.  He  reported  to  that 
board  of  directors  what  he  had  discovered,  and 
he  suggested  that  they  cut  out  all  this  "dry  rot" 
—  the  financial  term  for  corruption.  There  was 
a  scene.  There  was  just  such  a  howl  at  this 
reform  in  business  as  there  is  in  politics,  and 
more  hypocrisy.  Those  old  directors  were  in- 
digant.  To  think  that  they,  gentlemen,  men 
of  business  standing  and  years  of  experience, 
were  to  be  insulted  and  dictated  to  by  a  boy  of 
twenty-eight!  He  should  learn  that  he  couldn't 
dominate  them.  They  were  having  troubles 
enough  from  one  Spreckels  already;  they  wouldn't 
put  up  with  another  "in  their  midst." 

But  that  boy  of  twenty-eight  was,  indeed,  a 
Spreckels.  Independent,  wilful,  he  was  sure  of 
the  end.  He  had  the  facts.  He  appealed  again 
to  the  stockholders,  who,  like  him,  had  been 
allowing  themselves  to  be  voted  by  "the  party 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  261 

in  power."  He  reported  to  them  the  condition 
of  things  and,  offering  a  ticket  in  opposition  to 
the  regular  ticket,  he  won.  Enough  of  Spreckels's 
directors  were  elected  to  give  him  control.  He 
did  not  take  the  presidency.  Because  his  father 
was  fighting  the  company,  he  put  up  W.  B. 
Bourn  for  president,  but  Rudolph  was  boss. 
And  he  cut  off  more  than  ;?300,ooo  of  useless 
expenses  (graft,  politics,  and  inefficiency)  in  the 
first  year! 

It  was  while  he  was  in  control  of  the  gas  com- 
pany that  young  Spreckels  got  his  first  Insight  into 
the  government  of  the  city.  He  found  upon  the 
padded  pay-roll  a  man  employed  at  ;?500  a 
month  to  collect  the  bills  against  the  city  for  public 
lighting.  Inquiring  why,  Mr.  Spreckels  was 
told  that  *'this  arrangement  facilitated"  the  col- 
lections; that  the  collector  was  a  politician,  with 
a  following  and  a  pull;  he  could  get  the  money 
without  delay,  and  —  besides  —  was  "  useful  in 
many  ways."  Mr.  Spreckels  understood.  He 
discharged  the  man. 

"What  was  the  result  ?"  I  asked  Mr.  Spreckels, 
when  he  told  me  of  this  incident. 

"Some  delay;  that  was  all,"  he  said. 

One  day  an  employee  brought  Mr.  Spreckels 
the  bill  for  gas  furnished  to  the  city  gas  inspector. 
This  official  had  always  ignored  his  bills  and  the 


262  UPBUILDERS 

company  had  never  cut  off  his  gas.  What  would 
Mr.  Spreckels  do  about  it  ? 

"Treat  him  like  anybody  else,"  was  the  answer. 

When  Mr.  Spreckels  told  me  of  these  incidents, 
I  explained  to  him  that  such  things  happened  in 
most  cities;  that  this  was  part  of  what  business 
men  called  political  blackmail;  that  business 
men,  especially  those  in  public  service  corpora- 
tions, commonly  submitted  to  and  excused  this 
corruption  on  the  ground  that,  to  protect  the 
interests  of  their  business  and  stockholders,  they 
"had  to."     They  were  "held  up." 

"What  do  you  say  to  that,  Mr.  Spreckels?" 

"I  say  that  you  don't  have  to  be  blackmailed, 
even  if  you  are  in  the  public  service  business. 
A  little  backbone  is  all  that  is  needed  —  unless 
you  want  things  you  shouldn't  have." 

"And  that  is  true  even  as  against  a  Labour 
government  ?" 

Mr.  Spreckels  smiled.  He  knew  that  the 
"Labour"  government  was  no  more  "labour" 
than  the  Republican  party  was  "republican" 
and  the  Democratic  party  "democratic."  He 
knew  that  the  boss  and  the  leaders  of  the  Labour 
party,  and  the  officials  of  the  Labour  adminis- 
tration, were  willing  to  sell  out  their  followers 
and  the  city  to  capital.  And  this  he  knew  at 
first-hand.     Soon  after  he  and  the  Labour  boss 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  263 

came  into  power,  Spreckels  in  the  San  Francisco 
Gas  Company  and  Ruef  in  San  Francisco,  they 
met.  Mr.  Spreckels  has  told  under  oath  the 
story  of  that  meeting.     He  says : 

"Ruef  was  brought  into  my  office  by  Mr. 
Charles  Sutro  and  introduced  and  left  there, 
and  he  stated  to  me  that  he  thought  he  had  legal 
ability  and  could  be  of  service  to  the  corporation 
'otherwise.'  He  suggested  that  he  be  employed 
as  counsel  for  the  company." 

To  have  the  political  representative  of  Labour 
offer  to  represent  a  "hated  capitalistic"  corpora- 
tion shocked  Mr.  Spreckels,  the  capitalist,  no 
more  than  it  did  citizens  or  the  workingmen 
themselves.  That  was  old  and,  as  newspaper 
men  understand,  it  is  news,  not  evil,  that  stirs 
men.  Mr.  Spreckels  declined  RuePs  offer,  but 
let  it  pass  without  a  protest.  When,  however, 
a  little  later,  the  boss  came  back  and  proposed 
to  him  to  use  Organized  Labour  as  a  "capitalistic 
club"  in  the  interest  of  a  capitalist,  Mr.  Spreckels 
was  aroused.  That  was  news.  Mr.  Spreckels 
has  recounted  this  experience  also  under  oath: 

"Mr.  Ruef  called  on  me  at  the  time  of  the 
issuing  of  the  city  bonds,"  Mr.  Spreckels's  affidavit 
reads,  "and  he  asked  me  to  get  up  a  syndicate 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  them  over.  He  said 
It  could  be  guaranteed  that  the  bonds  would  be 


264  UPBUILDERS 

sold  to  my  syndicate.  I  asked  him  how  he 
could  possibly  guarantee  such  a  thing  when  it 
(the  bond  issue)  was  open  to  public  bidding. 
Ruef  said  that  was  easy.  They  could  call  a 
strike  on  the  street-car  system  of  San  Francisco, 
and  with  every  street-car  line  tied  up,  he  would 
like  to  see  the  capitalists  or  bankers,  other  than 
the  (inside)  syndicate,  that  would  bid." 

That  was  the  incident  which  fixed  the  deter- 
mined mind  of  Rudolph  Spreckels  upon  political 
reform.  His  present  enemies  —  business  men, 
who  cannot  conceive  of  a  business  man  taking 
part  in  public  affairs  except  for  a  business  motive 
—  date  Mr.  Spreckels's  interest  in  his  city  from 
1906,  when,  they  say,  he  failed  to  get  a  certain 
street  railway  franchise  that  he  wanted.  But 
this  bond  issue  experience  was  two  years  before 
that,  in  1904,  and  from  his  interview  with  Ruef 
that  day,  he  went  straight  to  a  luncheon  where 
to  several  men  of  his  acquaintance  (who  remem- 
ber) he  told  the  story  and  declared  he  was  going 
to  employ  detectives,  investigate  the  government 
and  present  evidence  to  convict  the  men  that  ran 
the  city  and  Labour.  He  talked  to  others  about 
it.  Professor  Loeb,  the  biologist,  recalls  that 
Mr.  Spreckels  talked  of  his  plan  to  him  on  an 
overland  train  in  September,  1904.  So  there 
are  witnesses  for  those  who  doubt,  but  I  happen* 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  265 

to  know  from  conversations  with  Older  and 
Heney  in  Washington,  before  the  franchise  matter 
came  up,  that  Spreckels  was  the  man  who  was 
to  back  their  investigation  in  San  Francisco. 

The  franchise  matter  is,  however,  a  most 
important  incident  in  the  development  of  the 
public  character,  interest,  and  ideas  of  Rudolph 
Spreckels;  and,  likewise,  in  the  history  of  the 
corruption  and  reformation  of  the  city.  Brown 
Bros.,  bankers,  of  New  York,  managed  the 
consolidation  of  the  San  Francisco  street  railways. 
These  had  been  held  separately  by  the  Southern 
Pacific  crowd  and  by  other  groups  of  capitalists. 
As  the  earnings  increased,  the  fare  had  to  be 
reduced,  higher  dividends  paid,  or  the  stock 
watered,  and,  of  course,  the  stock  had  been 
watered.  The  consolidation  meant  more  water- 
ing, and  the  result  was  a  capitalization  amounting 
to  several  times  the  cost  of  construction. 

This  over-capitalized  consolidation  was  taken 
over  by  Mr.  Patrick  Calhoun,  of  New  York, 
Cleveland,  St.  Louis,  and  Pittsburg.  And  genial 
San  Francisco  merchants,  in  conversation  with 
me,  sympathized  with  this  very  charming  gentle- 
man, "because,"  they  said,  "he  really  was 
cheated  by  our  Mr.  Huntington."  But  Mr. 
Calhoun  has  left  everywhere  the  reputation  of  a 
very  astute  financier;  he  probably  knew  what  he 


266  UPBUILDERS 

was  about;  he  knew  how  he  could  make  San 
Francisco  pay  dividends  on  his  watered  stock. 
At  any  rate,  he  added  about  one-third  more  water. 

His  scheme  was  to  take  out  the  old  cables 
and  put  in  the  overhead  trolley.  He  knew  how 
people  object  to  that  system,  but  in  an  easy- 
going community  like  San  Francisco  and  with  a 
"Labour"  government,  anything  should  go.  He 
was  so  sure  of  success  that  he  recommended  his 
stock  to  his  friends  and  to  the  bankers  who 
direct  the  investments  of  widows  and  orphans. 
Moreover,  he  filled  solid  with  cement  some  of 
the  cable  conduits,  which  might  have  served  for 
the  underground  wires.  Mr.  Calhoun  was  sure 
of  himself  and  of  San  Francisco. 

But  one  day,  while  the  scheme  was  fresh, 
Rudolph  Spreckels  was  invited  by  Charles  Page, 
an  attorney,  to  join  with  some  other  property 
owners  on  Pacific  Avenue  to  consider  the  proposed 
overhead  trolley.  He  went  to  the  meeting  and 
he  heard  them  decide  to  oppose  the  change  — 
as  to  Pacific  Avenue.  A  petition  to  the  super- 
visors had  been  drawn  to  that  effect.  Mr. 
Spreckels  remonstrated.  He  said  that  he,  too, 
objected  to  overhead  wires,  but  he  thought  it 
wasn't  right  to  fight  for  their  own  street  in  the 
interest  of  their  property  alone. 

"I  don't  want  an  overhead  trolley  in  front  of 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  267 

my  property,"  he  said,  "but  I  suppose  that  other 
people  don't  want  it  in  front  of  their  property, 
either.  Certainly  the  city's  supervisors  should 
treat  all  streets  alike,  and  we  shouldn't  ask  them 
to  favour  us  particularly." 

He  moved  that  they  oppose  the  overhead 
trolley  on  the  whole  Sutter  Street  (cable)  system. 
That  was  agreed  to;  the  old  petition  was  torn  up 
and  a  new  one  drawn.  Solicitors  were  engaged 
to  get  signatures,  and  with  75  per  cent,  of  the 
property-owners'  names  upon  it,  the  paper  was 
presented  to  the  Board  of  Supervisors.  And  the 
supervisors  refused  the  grant.  But  this  was  the 
old,  so-called  Phelan  Board,  which  held  over 
into  the  Schmitz  administration.  In  1905,  when 
"Labour"  came  into  complete  control,  the  out- 
look for  Mr.  Calhoun  and  his  street  railways 
was  better.  It  was  known  that  the  "Labour" 
supervisors  would  sell  out  to  "Capital."  And 
it  was  supposed  that,  of  course.  Capital  would 
sell  out  to  Capital. 

The  United  Railways  Company  tried  to  "get" 
Rudolph  Spreckels.  I  mean  that  Patrick  Cal- 
houn offered  Rudolph  Spreckels  a  bribe.  Let 
me  hasten  to  add  that  business  men  may  not 
call  it  bribery;  such  as  Mr.  Calhoun  would  call 
his  proposition  to  Mr.  Spreckels  "business"; 
and  it  was  "business."     But  one  of  the  evidences 


268  UPBUILDERS 

tliat  have  gone  to  persuade  me  that  the  ethics 
of  American  politics  is  higher  than  the  ethics 
of  business,  is  that  this  typical  piece  of  "business" 
would  be  called  bribery  and  corruption  in  politics, 
even  by  the  low-down  politicians  themselves. 
They  might  take  the  bribe,  but  they  would  take 
it  knowing  that  it  was  a  bribe. 

The  company  tried  "reason"  first.  Arthur 
Holland,  the  then  president  of  the  United  Rail- 
ways, and  Chapman,  the  general  manager,  called 
upon  Mr.  Spreckels.  He  had  become  the  head 
and  front  of  the  opposition,  and  they  asked  him 
to  withdraw.  His  reply  was  that  he  had  read 
all  the  published  arguments  of  the  company 
against  underground  trolleys.  There  was  nothing 
in  them,  he  said,  and  he  asked  if  they  had  any 
others.  They  said  no,  that  the  engineering 
impossibilities  were  all  they  had  to  offer.  There 
were  some  sixteen  deep  depressions  on  the  pro- 
posed lines,  and  in  the  rainy  season  these  could 
not  be  drained. 

"That,  then,  is  your  only  reason?"  Mr. 
Spreckels  asked. 

That  was  all,  they  said. 

"There  is  no  other?"  Mr.  Spreckels  made 
sure.     "You  don't  mind  the  difference  in  cost?" 

Not  at  all;  they  were  sure. 

"Very  well,"   Mr.   Spreckels   said.     "Then   I 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  269 

have  a  solution.  I  will  put  drains  on  the  present 
(cable)  conduits,  and  keep  them  dry.  I  will 
keep  them  so  dry  that  you  will  yourselves  admit 
that  they  are  dry.  But,  if  I  do  that,  I  shall  expect 
you  to  install  the  underground  trolley  in  those 
conduits." 

They  refused  this  proposition,  and  Mr.  Spreckels 
told  them  why. 

"You  haven't  given  me  your  real  reason, 
and  I  will  continue  to  fight." 

Then  came  Mr.  Patrick  Calhoun  talking 
"business."  There  were  three  meetings.  The 
first  was  a  general,  pleasant  chat  at  the  Bohemian 
Club  between  Messrs.  Calhoun,  R.  B.  Hale, 
James  D.  Phelan,  Rufus  B.  Jennings,  and  others. 
They  couldn't  get  very  far  without  Mr.  Spreckels, 
so  he  was  sent  for,  and  Mr.  Calhoun  soon  saw 
that  Spreckels  was  the  man.  He  was  keen,  firm, 
amiable,  but  not  to  be  charmed  or  fooled.  Evi- 
dently Patrick  Calhoun  made  up  his  mind  then 
to  "get"  Spreckels,  for,  after  the  meeting,  he 
asked  for  a  second  meeting  with  him  alone. 

They  met  at  the  Canadian  Bank  and  went  to 
a  private  room  in  the  Mercantile  Club  upstairs. 
After  some  preliminaries,  Calhoun  offered  to 
modify  his  overhead  trolley  plans  to  this  extent: 
he  would  except  Pacific  Avenue.  That  was  the 
street  on  which   Spreckels  lived.     Mr.   Calhoun 


270  UPBUILDERS 

would  leave  the  cable  there  for  the  present,  at 
least,  and,  if  he  ever  did  apply  electricity  to  that 
line,  would  use  the  underground  conduit.  Mr. 
Spreckels  understood  the  proposition  perfectly, 
as  his  reply  showed.  He  said  that  no  concession 
to  him  or  to  his  street  could  break  his  allegiance 
to  the  other  property  owners.  Mr.  Calhoun 
went  away  disappointed.     But  he  tried  .again. 

The  third  meeting  was  again  in  the  Canadian 
Bank  building,  and  Mr.  Calhoun  had  a  witness 
present,  his  brother-in-law  and  manager.  Mr. 
Spreckels  had  none,  so  I  must  be  careful.  Mr. 
Spreckels  says  that  Mr.  Calhoun  explained  that 
he  couldn't  put  in  conduits  all  over  the  city. 
But  he  could  put  in  some,  and  he  told  where. 
Also,  however,  he  would  tunnel  the  Powell  Street 
hill  and  make  Powell  and  Sutter  the  most  valuable 
transfer-point  in  the  city. 

"Is  that  because  I  own  property  at  that  point  ?" 
Mr.  Spreckels  asked. 

"Why,  no,"  Calhoun  answered.  "Are  you 
interested  ?     I  didn't  know  that." 

Besides  this  offer,  Mr.  Calhoun  bid  to  remove 
street-cars  altogether  from  Pacific  Avenue  and 
take  the  parallel  street,  Broadway.  That  would 
make  Mr.  Spreckels's  street  more  attractive,  and 
as  for  the  convenience,  Mr.  Spreckels  and  his 
friends    used    automobiles    and    carriages.     And 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  271 

Mr.  Calhoun  went  on  to  tell  Mr.  Spreckels  in  a 
very  flattering  way  that  he  was  the  kind  of  man 
he  wished  to  have  with  him,  and  he  suggested 
that  Mr.  Spreckels  take  a  stock  interest  in  the 
United  Railways.  Mr.  Spreckels  put  the  whole 
business  aside  with  a  reference  to  "people  that 
didn't  live  on  Pacific  Avenue  and  did  not  ride 
in  automobiles  and  carriages."  He  was  quiet 
about  it,  but  he  understood  it.  He  was  being 
offered  personal  inducements  to  betray  the  other 
property  owners  with  whom  he  had  associated 
himself  and  of  whom  he  was  the  leader;  the  price 
held  out  to  him  was  expected  to  bribe  him  over 
to  the  side  of  the  United  Railways. 

"Did  you  understand  this  to  be  bribery?"  I 
asked  Mr.  Spreckels. 

"Of  course  it  was  bribery,"  he  answered. 
"Bribes  aren't  always  offered  in  cash,  and  cor- 
ruption isn't  confined  to  politics.  Anything  that 
tempts  any  man  from  what  he  thinks  to  be  his 
duty,  is  corruption." 

Mr.  Spreckels  resisted  the  temptation  easily. 
He  told  Calhoun,  as  he  told  Calhoun's  prede- 
cessors, that  he  would  fight,  and  he  went  out 
and  organized  a  company  to  build  and  operate 
an  underground  trolley  line  in  Bush  Street.  That 
is  the  offence  charged  up  to  him  by  his  fellow- 
capitalists   now.     At  the   time   he   proposed   his 


272  UPBUILDERS 

scheme  it  was  not  regarded  as  bad.  On  the 
contrary,  it  was  spoken  of  as  public-spirited.  It 
was  perfectly  understood  then  that  Rudolph 
Spreckels  sought  only  to  prove  on  Bush  Street 
that  the  underground  trolley  was  feasible.  He 
expected  to  incur  no  loss;  he  must  make  the 
road  pay  to  prove  his  point.  But  there  was  to 
be  "  no  big  money  in  it,"  either.  One  of  the  terms 
stated  in  the  papers  and  to  be  fixed  in  the  franchise 
grant  from  the  city,  was  an  agreement  that  the 
city  was  to  take  over  the  plant  at  cost  plus  interest, 
at  any  time  it  pleased  after  the  demonstration 
had  been  made.  The  scheme  was  conceived 
neither  as  a  self-sacrifice  nor  as  selfish;  it  was 
only  a  weapon  made  for  a  particular  fight,  the 
fight  for  the  city  beautiful  as  against  Patrick 
Calhoun  and  dividends  on  the  watered  stock 
of  the  street  railway  company. 

But  the  earthquake  knocked  that  weapon  out 
of  Rudolph  Spreckels's  hand.  The  articles  of 
incorporation  were  filed  a  day  or  two  before  the 
disaster  of  April  i8,  1906,  and  Rudolph  Spreckels, 
invited  by  Mayor  Schmitz  to  join  the  Committee 
of  Fifty  that  was  to  rehabilitate  San  Francisco 
and  govern  it,  at  last,  as  it  should  be  governed, 
by  its  best  citizens  in  its  own  best  interest,  as  a 
community  of  men  and  women  —  Mr.  Spreckels 
left  his  company  in  the  air  and  devoted  himself 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  273 

to  this  bigger,  finer  task.  And  he  was  absorbed 
for  a  while.  It  was  an  inspiring  spectacle,  that 
of  those  fifty  leading  men  leading  a  whole  city 
of  men  and  women  in  the  work  for  the  common 
good.  But  Spreckels  was  the  first  to  see  that  the 
grafters  smelt  the  graft  and  that  the  fifty,  reduced 
to  forty,  caught  the  smell,  whiffed,  and  dashed 
all  together  —  low  politicians,  high  financiers, 
and  dignified  attorneys  —  for  the  graft.  Herrin 
was  on  hand;  Harriman  came  flying  to  the  rescue 
and  —  to  get  his  rails  farther  into  the  city.  Cal- 
houn came  out  to  get,  while  the  city  was  down, 
the  franchise  held  up  before,  but  "arranged  for,'* 
and  —  he  got  it.  But  Rudolph  Spreckels  saw 
now  that  the  fight  wasn't  with  Mr.  Calhoun;  and 
neither  was  it  with  Schmitz  and  Ruef.  It  was 
with  some  sort  of  a  big,  general  condition.  So 
he  went  back  to  the  big,  general  war  he  had 
planned  with  Heney  and  Burns  —  before  the 
earthquake;  before  that  franchise  for  Calhoun 
came  up  —  his  plan  as  outlined  years  before  to 
his  friends  at  lunch,  the  day  Ruef  oflTered  to  lend 
him  Organized  Labour  to  knock  out  Organized 
Capital  and  seize  a  .  bond  issue.  Rudolph 
Spreckels  went  on  with  his  plan  for  such  an 
investigation  and  fight  of  the  corruption  in  San 
Francisco  as  he  had  made  and  won  in  San  Fran- 
cisco gas. 


274  UPBUILDERS 

That's  Rudolph  Spreckels's  story,  in  brief. 
Can  you  see  the  man  ?  Stress  has  been  laid 
upon  his  youth  and  his  self-reliance,  his  fearless 
readiness  to  fight.  But  there  is  an  amiability 
about  the  man  that  is  very  winning.  He  is  hard, 
hard  as  youth,  both  in  conflict  and  in  his  judg- 
ments of  men.  **Are  you  with  me?"  he  asked 
a  friend,  and  when  the  friend  began  to  "explain," 
Spreckels  cut  him  short:  "Then  you're  against 
me.  That's  all  I  wanted  to  know."  And  his 
friend  didn't  like  that;  none  of  the  men  that 
know  him  do;  Spreckels  is  so  cold-blooded  in 
opposition.  But  he  is  reasonable,  most  generous, 
and  even  charming  as  an  ally.  When  Heney's 
friends  learned  that  he  was  "with  Spreckels," 
they  warned  him. 

"Look  out,  Frank!  You  want  to  run  yourself 
and  all  your  own  undertakings.  So  does  Spreckels, 
and  Spreckels  will  run  this  prosecution  of  yours. 
He  must  dominate."  "I  know,"  said  one  banker; 
"I've  gone  into  business  schemes  with  him,  but 
I  never  do  now  any  more  unless  I'm  willing  to 
have  him  be  the  whole  show.  It's  safe  to  let 
him  — he  is  a  master  manager;  but  I  found  out  that 
if  anybody  opposed  him,  he  would  bust  the 
scheme,  you,  and  himself  rather  than  not  have 
his  own  way." 

So    Heney    expected    to    have    trouble    with 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  275 

Spreckels,  and  the  two  have  clashed  sharply, 
as  only  two  such  men  can.  But  Spreckels, 
aggressive  though  he  is,  and  positive,  is  not  quick- 
tempered like  Heney.  He  is  serene  and,  when 
Heney  storms,  he  waits.  Heney  is  just  and  — 
he  has  humour.  So  Spreckels  smiles  till  Heney 
laughs.  Then,  whoever  is  right  wins,  and  who- 
ever is  wrong  doesn't  care,  for  there  isn't  a 
petty  trait  in  either  of  these  men.  If  they  ever 
fall  out,  it  will  be  because  they  ought  to,  for 
the  big  difference  between  them  is  fundamental. 

Heney  is  a  democrat;  Spreckels  is  an  aristocrat, 
and  an  autocrat.  Both  of  them  have  been  too 
active  all  their  lives  to  have  thought  out  their 
philosophies  to  the  definiteness  of  policy,  and 
they  should  be  able  to  go  far  together  before  they 
split.  For  they  both  are,  and  probably  long  will 
be,  fighting  what  both  of  them  detest,  a  rotten 
plutocracy,  founded  on  class  hate.  But,  by  and 
by,  when  they  come  to  build  up  where  they  have 
torn  down,  either  Heney  or  Spreckels  will  go 
asunder  or  Spreckels  will  go  on  learning  what 
Heney  knows  by  heart. 

I  say  "go  on"  learning  because  I  think  I 
never  have  seen  a  man  learn  so  fast  as  Mr. 
Spreckels  has.  That  is  why  I  believe  in  him. 
Since  the  first  time  I  met  the  man,  I  have  never 
doubted  his  integrity;  nor  the  singleness  of  his 


276  UPBUILDERS 

unselfish  purpose;  nor  his  capacity  to  do  great 
deeds.  All  the  stated  objections  of  his  fellow- 
business  men  to  this  business  man  in  politics 
are  silly  and  all  their  real  objections  are  nothing 
but  the  symptoms  of  the  corruption  of  the  com- 
mercial mind  and  its  class-conscious  folly.  The 
trouble  with  Mr.  Spreckels  is  that  he  is,  like  his 
critics,  a  business  man  and  that  his  scheme  for 
political  reform  is  a  business  scheme. 

He  believes  that  all  men  are  divided  into  two 
classes:  good  men  and  bad  men.  Anybody  who 
has  thought  about  actual  life  knows  that  there 
is  something  in  the  plea  of  railroad  and  public 
utility  men,  that  they  "have  to"  be  bad;  that 
there  are  certain  businesses  which  no  man  can 
"succeed"  at  and  be  honest.  But  Mr.  Spreckels 
has  that  great  fault  of  the  self-made  man;  he  has 
learned  not  from  the  experience  of  others,  but 
only  from  his  own,  and  what  he  doesn't  know 
isn't  known.  He  is  unacquainted  with  the 
literature  and  the  history  of  politics  and  govern- 
ment; he  has  no  economic  enlightenment  at  all. 
He  is  truly  a  practical  man,  and  his  practical 
experience  is  exceptional.  He  knows  that  he, 
as  a  gas  magnate,  did  not  bribe  anybody  and 
that  he  didn't  "have  to."  If  you  call  his  atten- 
tion to  the  salient  fact  that  he  didn't  make  a 
"success"  of  gas;  that  he  didn't  "finance"  the 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  277 

company,  but  only  managed  it  in  the  interest  of 
the  stockholders,  he  smiles. 

"That  is  all  any  public  utility  man  should  be 
allowed  to  do,"  he  says. 

So  Mr.  Spreckels  proposes  to  put  the  bad 
men  of  San  Francisco  in  jail.  But  what  then  ? 
What  is  to  prevent  the  generation  of  other  bad 
men  ? 

There  is  where  Mr  Spreckels  thinks  his  scheme 
excels  all  others.  He  knows  it  won't  suffice  to 
have  Heney  "put  away'*  the  few  "bad  men" 
Burns  can  catch.  He  knows  that  eternal  vigi- 
lance is  the  price  of  good  government.  So  he 
proposes,  after  this  prosecution  is  over,  to  establish 
a  permanent  bureau,  a  staff  composed  of  an 
expert  accountant,  to  keep  watch  of  the  city's 
books,  contracts,  etc.;  a  detective  to  shadow  for- 
ever the  men  in  public  office;  and  an  attorney  to 
receive,  order,  complete,  and  present  the  evidence 
in  court.  This  has  been  done  before,  but  never 
mind;  it  has  never  been  done  as  Rudolph 
Spreckels  is  proving  that  he  means  to  do  it. 
There  may  be  some  objection  to  spying,  but 
Mr.  Spreckels  says  such  a  watch  is  the  common, 
every-day  practice  in  banks  and  in  other  business. 
So  let  that  pass. 

But  what  is  to  prevent  Mr.  Spreckels's  account- 
ant   from    "selling    out";     his     detective     from 


278  UPBUILDERS 

"standing  in";  his  attorney  from  "taking  per- 
fectly proper  fees"  from  other  clients?  The 
vigilance  of  Mr.  Spreckels.  He  will  watch  his 
watchers.  So  it  comes  down,  finally,  to  the 
character  of  Mr.  Spreckels.  That  happens  to 
be  about  as  sound  a  foundation  as  any  one 
man  can  furnish,  but  it  is  a  one-man  scheme. 
It  isn't  democratic.  The  democratic  theory  is 
founded  on  the  expectation  that  self-government, 
by  its  very  abuses,  will  tend  gradually  to  develop 
in  all  men  such  a  concern  for  the  common  good 
that  human  nature  will  become  intelligent  and 
considerate  of  others.  That  sounds  almost  Chris- 
tian, and  it  isn't  business.  In  business  the  old 
autocratic  practice  prevails;  one  man  is  boss, 
and  he  runs  everything  and  everybody. 

That  is  why  business  men's  reform  movements 
seek  to  abolish  or  subordinate  the  board  of  alder- 
men and  to  concentrate  all  power  in  the  mayor. 
They  want  a  good,  responsible  king.  And  if 
they  would  only  elect  men  who  would  be  king, 
they  might  be  satisfied,  but  the  "good"  business 
man  they  choose  is  usually  of  the  sort  that  looks 
up  to  "big"  business  men;  he  has  the  prejudice 
of  his  class  against  the  political  boss,  but  when 
he  discovers  that  this  low-down  politician  is  the 
mouthpiece  of  the  high-up  business  men,  he  takes 
orders  as  well  as  the  ordinary  heeler.     "Better," 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  279 

says  ex-Boss  Buckley,  of  San  Francisco,  who  tried 
him  out. 

Business  men  ought  to  elect  a  "big"  business 
man  mayor.  Rudolph  Spreckels  is  the  very  type. 
He  wouldn't  look  up  to  anyone  and  no  politician, 
no  matter  whom  he  represented,  could  get  Mayor 
Spreckels  to  "take  programme,"  as  they  say  in  the 
West.  But  big  business  men  "despise  politics" 
and  scorn  office-holding;  they  are  too  proud,  or 
something,  to  "appeal  to  the  people,"  and  the 
have  a  class  aversion  to  publicity.  Mr.  Spreckels, 
possessed  of  the  virtues,  has  some  €>f  the  faults  of 
his  class.  Hey  tooj  despises  politics;  he  told  me 
he  nevet-had-KQted  in Jiis  Vife;  andjie  promises, 
with^ride,  not  to  take  office.  It  is  sometimes 
a  duty  to  take  office;  it  is  as  ridiculous  for  a 
citizen  in  a  republic  to  boast  that  he  won't  as  it 
would  be  to  announce  with  pride  that  he  will 
not  go  to  the  front  in  time  of  war.  As~for  the 
fine  instinct  of  your  sensitive  gentlemen  for 
privacy,  criminals  have  that.  And  as  for  render- 
ing an  account  to  the  people,  somebody  has  to; 
and  Mr.  Spreckels  lets  Heney  issue  the  statements 
of  the'  prosecution  to  the  public. 

Now  I  have  shown,  I  think,  why  business  men 
should  be  for  Rudolph  Spreckels.  Why  haven't 
I  shown  why  real  democrats  should  be  against 
him?     There  are  two  good  reasons:  one  is  that 


28o  UPBUILDERS 

while  he  has  some  of  the  faults  of  his  kind,  he 
hasn't  all;  he  lacks  those  that  are  dangerous. 
The  other  is  that  he  is  getting  over  those  that  he 
has.  His  original  idea  was  to  let  whosoever 
would  nominate  and  elect  whomsoever  they 
pleased.  But  politics  is  interesting,  and  I  noticed 
that  Mr.  Spreckels  could  not  keep  his  hands  off. 
He  regretted  it,  but  he  had  to  help  run  the  board 
of  aldermen  after  the  members  confessed;  and 
he  had  to  help  name  a  mayor  when  Schmitz  was 
convicted.  And  in  doing  these  things,  he  had 
to  consider  the  wishes  of  the  public,  as  he  wanted 
to.  Well,  this  was  politics,  and  it  was  amusing 
to  observe  that  Mr.  Spreckels  showed  a  native 
talent  for  the  game.  He  says  he  won't,  but  he 
will  play  it,  as  he  should. 

And  he  will  be  boss.  He  thinks  not,  of  course; 
he  hates  the  word.  We  all  do.  But  he  will 
have  the  power.  Since  he  is  back  of  the  prose- 
cution, and  will  be  back  of  his  vigilantes,  men 
do,  and  they  will  continue  to  come  to  him  for  — 
advice.  His  advice  may  be  good,  and  he  may 
be,  therefore,  a  good  boss.  But  a  boss  he  is  and 
a  boss  he  must  be.  But  his  scheme,  like  the  whole 
idea  of  the  San  Francisco  prosecution,  is  extra- 
legal and  unsafe. 

Mr.  Spreckels  now,  like  any  other  boss,  is 
working  through   agents:   Heney,  Langdon,  etc. 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  281 

They  are  doing  well;  they  may  do  better;  but  they 
may  do  something  that  Mr.  Spreckels  would 
not  have  done.  Mr.  Langdon  may  become  jealous 
of  his  prerogatives;  the  mayor  may  adopt  a  policy 
that  is  repugnant  to  Mr.  Spreckels,  and  yet  not 
criminal.  Mr.  Spreckels  will  see  then  that  he 
can't,  and  that  he  shouldn't,  carry  out  his  ideas, 
no  matter  how  good  they  are,  except  in  a  legal 
office  where  he  has  himself  the  power  and  is, 
in  his  own  person,  responsible  to  the  other  citi- 
zens of  the  city,  who  should  be  free  to  elect  or 
defeat  him. 

That  means  going  to  the  people,  yes,  but 
Mr.  Spreckels  has  learned  something  about  the 
people.  When  I  first  met  and  heard  him  talk 
about  "business,"  I  said: 

"  But,  Mr.  Spreckels,  business  won't  help  you. 
You'll  find,  if  you  go  far  enough  into  this  political 
corruption,  that  business  graft  is  at  the  bottom 
of  it.  And  when  you  touch  that,  your  own  class, 
the  business  men  of  San  Francisco,  will  go  back 
on  you." 

He  smiled;  he  knew  all  that.  But  what  he 
didn't  know,  and  what  I  saw  him  find  out  when 
his  own  class  did  go  back  on  him,  was  that  the 
people,  yes,  even  Labour,  would  listen.  Organ- 
ized Labour,  led  by  the  same  kind  of  selfish 
grafters   that   lead    Organized    Capital,    held    oflT 


282  UPBUILDERS 

like  Its  capitalistic  twin,  but  the  rank  and  file 
were  reasonable  and  capable  of  some  little  self- 
sacrifice.  And  Mr.  Spreckels's  personal  experi- 
ences were  private,  with  a  few  men.  He  won't 
address  a  crowd,  but  Heney  does  and  he  sees 
that  Heney  rarely  fails  to  get  a  response  from 
his  juries  and  from  "the  masses"  generally. 
Well,  the  masses  decide  in  this  country  and 
their  decisions  are  good,  and  the  reason  they 
are  good  is  not  because  the  people  are  better 
than  their  "betters,"  but  because  they  are  dis- 
interested. They  are  not  in  on  any  graft,  so 
they  can  be  fair. 

But  the  best  hope  of  Spreckels  lies  in  this  rare 
trait:  he  has  mental  as  well  as  moral  integrity. 
He  has  class  prejudices,  but  they  take  a  peculiar 
form.  A  capitalist,  he  can  see  the  beam  in  the  eye 
of  capital  as  clearly  as  he  can  the  mote  in  the  eye 
of  labour;  and  the  only  sense  of  class  that  he 
shows  is  in  his  real  scorn  for  the  workingman's 
brick  and  the  politician's  petty  blackmail.  He 
would  let  them  go  to  get  the  big,  real  deviltry 
of  his  own  class,  which  is  the  source  of  our 
corruption,  political,  business,  and  labour,  too. 
And  he  did. 

Mr.  Spreckels  was  fair.  He  gave  his  own 
class  a  chance.  He  passed  the  word  in  business 
circles  that  he  was  going  after  grafters;  that  he 


RUDOLPH  SPRECKELS  283 

knew  business  men  were  held  up;  he  argued 
that  they  couldn't  like  to  be  held  up  and,  there- 
fore would  undoubtedly  be  glad  to  help  expose 
and  destroy  the  whole  blackmail  system.  He 
invited  the  business  men  of  San  Francisco  to 
turn  state's  witnesses  and  help  him  "get"  the 
politicians.  But  no  business  man  accepted  his 
hospitality.  They  all  "stood  pat";  some  of 
them  went  on  being  "held  up"  by  the  politicians 
who  —  did  accept  Mr.  Spreckels's  invitation.  For 
he  sent  it  to  them  also. 

And  when  they  turned  state's  witnesses,  there 
was  clamour  downtown.  A  strike  was  impending, 
the  car-men's  strike,  and  Spreckels  himself  has 
suffered  from  labour's  tyranny.  "Everybody" 
wanted  the  unions  smashed  and  Patrick  Calhoun 
promised  to  smash  them.  No  matter.  A  whole 
lot  of  leading  business  men,  the  very  leaders  of 
the  city,  were  indicted  for  bribery  or  corruption 
and  Calhoun  was  among  them.  Spreckels  "went 
back  on  his  class."  That's  what  was  said,  and  he 
was  "cut";  his  family  was  punished;  his  bank 
suffered  a  (rich  depositors')  run.  Spreckels  was 
unmoved;  he  was  getting  publicity,  but  he  took 
it.  He  called  at  his  bank;  lunched  at  "the" 
Club;  and  he  appeared  constantly  in  court. 
He  was  following  the  evidence. 

This  is  all  that  is  necessary.     Let  such  a  man 


Z^)^ 


284  UPBUILDERS 

as  this  —  honest,  fearless,  young  and  open-eyed 
let  Rudolph  Spreckels  but  follow    the    facts; 

they  will  teach   him  the  truth,   and,  no  matter 

what  the  truth  may  be,  he  will  tackle  it;  and  he 

will  tackle  it  right  or  —  quit. 

"And  Spreckels  can't  quit,"  Heney  says.     "I 

don't  say  he  won't;  he  can't." 


W.  S,  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER 

OREGON  has  more  fundamental  legislation 
than  any  other  state  in  the  Union  excepting 
only  Oklahoma,  and  Oklahoma  is  new.  Oregon 
is  not  new;  it  is  and  it  long  has  been  corrupt,  yet 
it  has  enacted  laws  which  enable  its  people  to 
govern  themselves  when  they  want  to.  How 
did  this  happen  ?  How  did  this  state  of  graft 
get  all  her  tools  for  democracy .?  And,  since  it 
has  them,  why  don't  her  people  use  them  more  ? 
The  answer  to  these  questions  lies  buried  deep 
in  the  character  and  in  the  story  of  W.  S.  U*Ren 
(accent  the  last  syllable),  the  lawgiver. 

They  call  this  man  the  Father  of  the  Initiative 
and  Referendum  in  Oregon,  but  that  title  isn't 
big  enough.  U'Ren  has  fathered  other  Oregon 
laws,  and  his  own  state  isn't  the  limit  of  his  in- 
fluence. The  Dakotas  have  some  similar  legisla- 
tion. Meeting  on  a  Western  train  one  day  a 
politician  who  seemed  to  know  all  about  things 
there,  I  inquired  into  the  origin  of  the  Dakota 
laws. 

"There's  a  fellow  over  in  Oregon,"  he  an- 
swered —  "  funny  name  —  he  tipped  us  off  and 

285 


286  UPBUILDERS 

steered   us;   sent   drafts   of  bills   and   pamphlets 
containing  arguments.     I  can't  recall  his  name." 

"U'Ren?" 

"That's  it;  that's  the  man." 

They  are  getting  good  laws  in  the  State  of 
Washington,  also.  I  asked  in  Seattle  where 
they  came  from.  Very  few  knew,  but  those  that 
did  said:  "U'Ren  of  Oregon." 

The  first  time  I  heard  this  name  was  in  Rhode 
Island.  Ex-Governor  Garvin,  the  advocate  of 
democratic  legislation  for  that  law-bound  state, 
knew  about  U'Ren.  After  that  I  used  to  come 
upon  his  influence  in  many  states  and  cities 
where  men  were  tinkering  with  the  sacred  con- 
stitutional machinery  that  won't  let  democracy 
go.  But  my  last  encounter  with  the  mysterious 
ubiquity  of  this  singular  man's  influence  was 
amusing.  Spreckels,  Heney,  and  the  other 
fighters  for  San  Francisco  thought  of  going  to  the 
people  on  a  certain  proposition  and,  seeing  thus 
the  uses  of  the  referendum,  wanted  it.  I  sug- 
gested writing  to  U'Ren.  They  never  had  heard 
of  him,  but  they  wrote,  and  he  came.  And  he 
heard  them  out  on  their  need  of  the  referendum. 

"But  I  think,"  said  U'Ren,  "that  you  have 
it  in  your  city  charter."  Everybody  looked 
incredulous.  "Where  is  the  book?"  U'Ren 
asked.     "I  think  I  can  find  it.     I  certainly  had 


WILLIAM  S.   U'REN 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER      287 

some  correspondence  with  the  makers  of  that 
charter;  I  think  I  drafted  a  section — yes,  here 
it  is.  [He  read  it  to  himself.]  It  isn't  mine  — 
not  very  clear  —  but  [handing  back  the  book] 
good  enough  for  your  purpose,  you  see." 

William  Simon  U'Ren,  the  lawgiver, -was  born 
January  10,  1859,  at  Lancaster,  Wisconsin.  His 
father  is  a  blacksmith,  and  his  father's  seven 
brothers  were  blacksmiths;  their  father  was  a 
blacksmith,  and  their  father's  father,  and  his 
father,  and  his.  As  far  as  the  family  can  trace 
from  Cornwall,  England,  back  into  Holland, 
they  see  an  unbroken  line  of  blacksmiths.  And 
preachers.  Five  of  U'Ren's  seven  uncles  preachecT 
and,  among  their  ancestors,  other  blacksmiths 
preached.  And  WiUiam  U'Ren  himself  is  both 
a  blacksmith  and  a  preacher  in  a  way;  in  a  very 
essential  way. 

"Blacksmithing  is  my  trade,"  he  says.  "And 
it  has  always  given  colour  to  my  view  of  things. 
For  example,  when  I  was  very  young,  I  saw 
some  of  the  evils  in  the  conditions  of  life,  and  I 
wanted  to  fix  them.  I  couldn't.  There  were  no 
tools.  We  had  tools  to  do  almost  anything  with 
in  the  shop,  beautiful  tools,  wonderful.  And  so 
in  other  trades,  arts  and  professions;  in  every- 
thing but  government.  In  government,  the  com- 
mon trade  of  all  men  and  the  basis  of  all  social 


288  UPBUILDERS 

life,  men  worked  still  with  old  tools,  with  old 
laws,  with  constitutions  and  charters  which 
hindered  more  than  they  helped.  Men  suffered 
from  this.  There  were  lawyers  enough;  many 
of  our  ablest  men  were  lawyers.  Why  didn't 
some  of  them  invent  legislative  implements  to 
help  the  people  govern  themselves  ^  Why  had 
we  no  tool  makers  for  democracy?" 

U'Ren  is  a  very  quiet  man.  He  never  would 
strike  one  as  a  blacksmith.  He  never  would 
strike  one  at  all.  Slight  of  figure,  silent  in  motion, 
he  speaks  softly,  evenly,  as  he  walks;  and  they 
call  him,  therefore,  the  "pussy  cat." 

"You  see,"  he  purred  now,  "I  saw  it  all  in 
terms  of  the  mechanic." 

But  he  feels  it  all  in  the  terms  of  religion. 
His  mother,  also  Cornish,  also  of  the  class  that 
labours  hard,  was  also  religious — a  Methodist. 
She  taught  her  children  from  the  Bible.  Je- 
hovah, Moses,  and  Jesus  were  the  ideals  of  this 
humble  family,  and,  for  some  reason,  Moses 
caught  the  imagination  of  her  oldest  boy,  William. 
He  always  wanted  to  hear  about  Moses,  the 
lawgiver,  and  when  he  could  read  for  himself.  Ex- 
odus and  Numbers  were  the  books  he  loved  best. 
And  just  as  some  boys  want  to  be  Napoleon,  so 
young  U'Ren  dreamed  that  when  he  grew  up 
he  would  be  like  Moses,  the  giver  of   laws  that 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     289 

should  lead  the  people  out  of  Darkness  into  the 
land  of  Promise.  But,  of  course,  the  Biblical 
hero-worship,  taught  him  first  by  that  pious 
woman,  his  good  mother,  made  it  a  religious 
influence,  as  it  still  is,  for  when  U'Ren,  the  black- 
smith, is  fashioning  his  legislative  tools  he  works 
not  alone  with  the  affection  of  the  true  mechanic, 
but  with  the  devotion  of  a  faith  that  his  laws 
will  indeed  deliver  the  people  from  bondage. 

All  his  life  William  U'Ren  had  heard  of  liberty. 
His  father's  father  lived  in  Cornwall  on  land 
leased  for  ninety-nine  years;  his  mother's  father 
on  land  leased  for  "three  lives."  That's  why 
his  father  emigrated  at  seventeen,  and  his 
mother  at  ten,  to  the  "land  of  the  free."  And 
one  of  William's  first  recollections  of  "American 
liberty"  is  of  our  war  against  slavery.  His 
mother  told  stories  of  "poor  little  black  children 
sold  away  from  their  mothers,"  and  his  father 
pointed  out  the  power  of  the  "slave  interest." 
He  realized  the  Power  of  Evil,  that  father  did. 

A  strong,  independent  spirit,  he  wanted  to 
work  for  himself.  He  was  an  expert  mechanic. 
The  son  tells  how  once  when  they  got  a  job 
together,  he  boasted  of  his  father's  skill,  and  the 
next  time  a  piece  of  work  came  along  calling  for 
a  master  workman,  the  elder  U'Ren  was  put  to 
it.     He  did  it  to  a  turn  "in  one  heat."     So  he 


290  UPBUILDERS 

^  was  in  demand  as  "a  hand,"  but  he  had  a  head 
and  he  "hated  a  boss."  He  wouldn't  stick  to 
a  good  job,  no  matter  how  good  it  was.  He 
must  "move  on,"  seeking  liberty — freedom  to 
do  his  own  work  in  his  own  way.  He  couldn't. 
The  best  pay  for  a  blacksmith  was  in  big  organi- 
zations like  the  copper  mines  of  Lake  Superior. 
He  tried  farming.  He  led  his  family  West, 
from  Wisconsin  to  Nebraska;  over  into  Colo- 
rado; back  to  Wisconsin;  down  again  to  Wyo- 
ming and  Colorado.  It  was  no  use.  Father 
and  sons,  they  all  worked  as  only  border  farmers 
work;  they  couldn't  earn  enough  ahead  to  buy 
their  liberty;  or,  if  they  got  a  start,  something  set 
them  back. 

U'Ren  visualized  one  tragic  day  out  of  this  life 
for  me.  His  father  had  taken  up  a  homestead  in 
Nebraska,  and  they  had  made  a  farm  of  it.  William 
remembers  halting,  on  his  way  to  town  one  morn- 
ing, to  look  back  from  a  hill  over  the  rich,  yellow 
level  of  their  crops  spread  out  under  the  sun. 
When  he  came  home  that  afternoon,  he  stopped, 
stunned,  on  that  same  hill-top.  The  sun  still 
shone,  but  the  homestead,  the  whole  country, 
was  bare  and  brown.  The  boy  understood  then 
what  one  of  the  plagues  of  Egypt  was.  The 
grasshoppers  had  passed,  a  cyclone  of  them, 
and  in  four  hours  the  U'Rens  were  ruined. 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     291 

"I  was  brought  up  in  the  fear  of  the  poor," 
U'Ren  says,  "the  terrible  fear  of  poverty."  But 
not  in  hate;  at  least,  not  in  the  hatred  of  men. 
"Things  make  men  do  bad  things,"  he  says. 
He  does  not  believe  in  bad  men  and  good  men, 
and,  as  we  shall  see,  he  deals  placidly  with  both 
kinds.  "Conditions  are  to  blame  for  all  evil," 
he  pleads  patiently,  "conditions  that  can  be 
changed."  His  father,  who  pointed  out  condi- 
tions to  him,  taught  him  also  to  fight.  But  he 
was  to  fight  for  justice,  not  for  hate. 

Since  the  family  moved  about  so  much,  William 

seemed  always  to  be  "the  new  boy"  at  school. 

The  others  picked  on  him.     He  was  still  a  child, 

quick-tempered,    but    not    aggressive.     And    the 

first  time  he  was  tempted  to  fight,  when  he  was 

seven   years   old,   he   took   his   mother's   counsel 

that  only 

"Dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite; 
It  is  their  nature  to." 

William  didn't  fight.  But  when,  not  long 
after  that,  at  Nevadaville,  Colorado,  Davie 
RadclifFe  called  Willie  U'Ren  a  liar,  Willie  con- 
sulted his  father.  The  father  reflected  a  moment, 
then  said  in  a  way  the  boy  never  forgot: 

"Never  hunt  a  fight,  boy,  but  never  run  from 
one;  never  suffer  wrong  or  injustice." 

The  next  day  Willie  U'Ren  hunted  the  fight 


292  UPBUILDERS 

he  had  avoided.  He  found  Davie;  Davie  didn't 
care  to  fight  then.  But  another  boy  accommo- 
dated Willie.  Johnnie  Badger,  the  fighter  of  the 
school,  licked  Willie  that  day;  and  the  next; 
and  the  next.  Willie  came  back  for  his  daily 
licking  till  his  father  happened  to  hear  of  it. 

"What's  the  niatter,  William?"  he  asked. 
"Can't  you  lick  that  boy  ?" 

"Not  yet,"  said  WilHam,  "but  I  v^ill  some  day." 

The  father  took  his  boy  in  hand,  taught  him 
how  to  use  his  fists  and  —  Willie  went  to  school 
and  licked  Johnnie  Badger.  "And  then,"  U'Ren 
says,  "we  became  good  friends." 

A  salient  trait  of  U'Ren,  the  man,  is  his  perfect 
self-possession.  His  father  developed  that  in 
him.  One  day  William  was  sent  to  a  neighbour's 
for  a  set  of  double-trees  for  a  wagon.  He  hitched 
a  trace  to  it  and,  letting  his  horse  drag  it  home, 
lost  one  of  the  clevis  pins.  His  father  rebuked 
him  sharply,  and  William  flew  into  one  of  his 
violent  but  infrequent  passions.  His  father  was 
silent.  He  didn't  want  to  break  the  boy's  spirit; 
he  waited  till  William  "felt  bad."  They  were 
haying  together  then,  and  at  one  of  the  pauses 
to  rest  the  father  talked  quietly  about  self-control. 
One  must  learn  to  govern  one's  self,  he  said, 
and  he  concluded:  "If  you  don't,  William,  you 

might  kiiir 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     293 

No  one  who  meets  W.  S.  U'Ren  now  could 
believe  that  he  ever  had  a  temper.  It  took  time, 
but  the  character-building  done  for  the  boy 
both  by  his  parents  and  by  himself  was  good  work 
well  done.  And  his  mental  development  was  still 
more  interesting.  Though  his  father's  discontent 
kept  the  conditions  of  their  life  critically  before 
him,  there  was  no  understanding  of  causes.  The 
family  read  "Greeley's  Paper,"  and  both  father 
and  son  followed  politics.  But  the  first  definite 
sense  of  the  economic  problems  underlying  politics 
came  to  William  himself  when  he  was  hardly 
thirteen.  The  farmers  in  the  Nebraska  district 
where  his  father  had  his  homestead,  needing  a 
school,  met  to  devise  ways  of  making  the  absentee 
land-owners  pay  for  it. 

"It  seemed  to  me,  as  a  boy,"  U'Ren  says 
now,  "that  something  was  wrong  in  this.  If  it 
was  right  for  those  non- voting  landholders  to 
own  the  land,  it  was  wrong  to  tax  them  for  the 
school  they  did  not  use.  Or,  if  it  was  right  to 
tax  them,  it  was  wrong  for  them  to  hold  the  land 
they  did  not  use.  I  puzzled  over  this,  but  I  could 
not  put  my  finger  on  the  injustice  I  felt  lurking 
somewhere." 

He  never  spoke  of  this.  He  was  a  solitary  soul, 
as  his  sports  show.  He  didn't  dance,  nor  even 
play  much.     He  liked  to  hunt  and  think,  to  work 


294  UPBUILDERS     . 

and  think,  to  read  and  —  dream.  While  he 
learned  his  trade,  and  learned  to  love  it,  and 
while  he  worked  the  farm  and  took  pride  in  his 
straight  rows  of  corn,  his  ambition  ran  off  to 
politics.  But  not  to  the  game.  Congress  was 
his  goal.  That  was  where  the  lawgivers  gathered. 
To  fit  himself  to  make  laws,  he  must  study  law 
and,  in  Denver,  he  entered  an  office  as  a  student, 
but  not  with  the  idea  of  making, law  his  career. 
One  of  the  firm,  Merrick  A.  Rogers,  encouraged 
U'Ren  there.  "Money-getting  isn't  a  very  high 
object,  not  for  a  life,"  he  used  to  say.  And  de- 
spite his  terror  of  poverty,  U'Ren  has  always 
regarded  the  practice  of  his  profession  as  a  secon- 
dary consideration.     He  is  a  legislator. 

Politics  comes  first  with  U'Ren.  He  makes 
his  living  with  his  left  hand;  his  right  is  for  the 
state.  And  that  such  citizenship  can  be  effective 
is  demonstrated  by  this  remarkable  fact:  The 
Father  of  the  Initiative  and  Referendum,  the  first 
legislator  of  Oregon,  has  held  office  but  once  in 
his  career.  He  has  done  what  he  has  done  as  a 
citizen  in  politics. 

His  first  experience  of  the  game  was  in  Denver 
when  he  was  a  law  student.  The  Presidential 
campaign  of  1880  was  on  and  U'Ren  had  just 
come  of  age.  The  Republican  party  needed  the 
help  of  all  good  men  and  true,  and  first-voters 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     295 

were  invited  to  work.  U'Ren  volunteered.  He 
offered  his  services  with  the  enthusiasm  of  youth 
and  the  fervour  of  that  secret  inspiration  of 
Moses.  And  the  leaders  welcomed  the  boy. 
They  put  him  to  work.  They  directed  him  to 
aid  in  colonizing  voters  in  a  doubtful  ward! 

U'Ren  was  stunned.  He  did  not  know  such 
things  were  done.  He  was  horrified,  but  fasci- 
nated. He  said  nothing;  he  didn't  do  the  work, 
but  he  hung  about  watching  it  done.  The  dreamer 
was  allowed  to  see  the  inside.  There  were  anti- 
Chinese  riots  in  the  town.  The  moo  marched 
through  the  streets  crying  "The  Chinese  must 
go!"  and  threatening  to  kill  them.  U'Ren  be- 
came excited.  Here  was  oppression  of  the  weak. 
At  his  request,  he  was  appointed  a  deputy  to 
"protect  the  poor  Chinamen,**  and  he  served 
in  all  earnestness  till  an  insider  explained  to  him 
that  the  mob  was  organized  and  the  riots  were 
faked  —  to  get  the  good  citizens  out  to  the  polls 
to  vote  for  "law  and  order  and  the  Republican 
party." 

The  elders  forget  how  young  people  feel  when 
they  first  discover  that  the  world  isn't  what 
schools  and  grown-ups  have  taught  them.  It 
would  be  better  to  teach  the  truth;  then  the  new 
citizens  would  be  prepared  for  the  fray.  As  it  is, 
the    sudden    shock    carries    away    not    only    the 


296  UPBUILDERS 

"illusions,"  but  more  often  the  character  of 
youth.  Not  so  with  U'Ren,  however.  His  dream 
of  Congress  vanished,  but  his  hope  of  inventing 
laws  to  make  such  evils  less  easy  and  profitable 
—  that  stayed.  Indeed,  this  was  the  time  when 
the  dominant  idea  of  his  life  took  its  first  definite 
form. 

"As  I  watched  this  fraud,  and  saw  that  it 
was  the  means  by  which  the  other  evils  were 
maintained,  I  felt  clearly  that  a  modicum  of 
the  thought  and  ingenuity  which  had  been 
devoted  to  machinery,  if  given  to  government, 
would  make  this  a  pleasant  world  to  live  in. 
That  men  were  all  right  at  bottom,  I  was  con- 
vinced, for  I  noticed  that  we  young  men  were 
honest  and  capable  of  some  unselfish  service. 
It  was  the  older  men  that  were  *bad.' " 

Sickness  befell  U'Ren,  a  long,  lingering,  weak- 
ening illness,  that  took  all  the  sand  out  of  him. 
He  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  practised  long 
enough  to  see  the  trickery  and  the  injustice  of 
the  Law.  He  edited  a  newspaper  at  Tin  Cup, 
a  mining  town,  but  he  saw  that  that  business 
had  its  frauds,  too,  and  that  the  editor  is  no  freer 
than  his  father,  the  blacksmith,  was.  So  he  quit, 
and  began  just  such  a  wandering  life  as  his  father 
had  led.  In  pursuit  of  liberty  and  health,  he 
moved    about    from    Denver   to    Iowa,    back    to 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     297 

Colorado,  on  to  California,  the  Hawaiian  Islands, 
and  Oregon,  and  back,  getting  better  and  worse 
till  1889-90,  when  something  happened;  some- 
thing for  which  these  wander-years  and  his  whole 
life  and  his  father's  had  prepared  him. 

He  read  "Progress  and  Poverty."  It  is  won- 
derful how  many  of  the  men  who  are  working  for 
political  reform  got  their  inspiration  from  Henry 
George.  "I  am  for  men,"  George  said,  and  he 
made  men.  No  matter  what  the  world  may 
decide  to  do  about  his  single  tax,  some  day  it 
will  have  to  acknowledge  that  Henry  George 
brought  into  the  service  of  man  more  men  of 
more  different  kinds  than  any  other  man  of  his 
day.  U'Ren  is  not  an  orthodox  single-taxer 
to-day;  U'Ren  cannot  be  classified  economically 
at  all;  he  thinks  for  himself.  He  read  other  books 
then;  he  reads  other  books  now.  Open-minded 
in  the  period  when,  as  he  says,  "the  hard  condi- 
tions and  selfish  interests  of  life  are  ossifying 
most  men,"  he  never  has  been  able  to  close  up 
his  mind.  He  is  wide  open  to  any  truth  from 
any  source. 

The  way  he  started  on  his  career  as  a 
legislator  shows  this.  One  day  toward  the  end 
of  his  wander-years,  as  he  was  changing  from 
the  train  to  the  boat  on  the  Oakland  (California) 
mole,  somebody  thrust  into  his  hand  a  leaflet  on 


298  UPBUILDERS 

the  "initiative/'  There  was  nothing  about  the 
*' referendum,"  and  U'Ren  had  never  heard  of 
either.  But  he  had  noticed  that  all  the  political 
evils  of  all  the  cities  and  states,  v^here  he  had 
idly  watched  men  defeat  themselves,  culminated 
in  the  betrayal  of  the  people  by  their  representa- 
tives. And  this  leaflet  showed  how  the  people 
themselves,  outside  of  and  over  the  heads  of  their 
elected  representatives,  might  initiate  and  pass 
laws.  Here  was  a  tool  for  democracy;  here  was 
a  means  to  achieve  the  reforms  Henry  George 
indicated.  U'Ren  determined  then  and  there 
to  hammer  this  leaflet  into  a  bill  and  pass  it  — 
somewhere. 

U'Ren  didn't  care  where.  The  need  of  it 
was  universal  in  the  United  States.  He  thought 
how  useful  it  would  be  in  Denver,  in  Iowa,  in 
Wisconsin;  it  was  needed  right  there  in  California. 
But  he  happened  to  be  going  to  Oregon  and  — 
that's  how  U'Ren  came  to  be  the  lawgiver  "of 
Oregon." 

The  initiative  —  as  a  tool,  remember;  as  a 
means  to  an  end;  as  a  first  political  step  toward 
changing  our  economic  conditions  —  this  idea 
gave  purpose  to  his  life.  His  health  improved. 
He  went  to  Portland  and,  mousing  around  for 
books  and  men,  came  upon  E.  W.  Bingham. 

"Ed.   Bingham,"   U'Ren    says,    "was   a   law- 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     299 

maker.  He  had  the  most  wonderful  constructive 
talent  for  law-building  that  I  ever  encountered." 

Bingham  was  working  with  an  Australian 
Ballot  League.  He  was  secretary,  and  he  taught 
U'Ren  to  be  secretary  of  things.  "Never  be 
president,"  he  said.  "Never  be  conspicuous. 
Get  a  president  and  a  committee;  and  let  them 
go  to  the  front.  The  worker  must  work  behind 
them,  out  of  sight.     Be  secretary." 

U'Ren  has  always  been  secretary;  clerical, 
impersonal,  but  busy,  like  Bingham.  He  has 
given  credit  for  all  his  work  to  other  men.  The 
first  time  I  met  him,  he  talked  of  leagues  and 
committees  of  leading  citizens  —  bankers,  rail- 
road men,  corporation  attorneys,  corrupt  politi- 
cians —  whom  he  named.  But  I  noticed  that 
while  the  members  of  U'Ren's  several  committees 
knew  something  about  their  own  work,  they 
seldom  knew  anything  about  that  of  the  other 
committees  of  which  U'Ren  was  secretary;  and 
when  it  came  to  precise  information,  they  all 
would  say,  "You  must  see  our  secretary,  a 
Mr.  U'Ren,  for  that."  A  Mr.  U'Ren  was  the 
one  man  in  Oregon  who  knew  all  about  all  this 
legislation. 

Well,  Bingham  had  drawn  the  Australian 
ballot  law  for  his  league,  and  he  talked  it  over, 
section   by   section,   with   U'Ren,   who   thus   got 


300  UPBUILDERS 

from  an  expert  his  first  lesson  in  law-building. 
The  next  thing  was  to  pass  it.  U'Ren  asked 
why  they  didn't  get  the  platform  committee  of 
the  Republican  Convention  to  endorse  the  bill. 
Bingham  laughed,  and  so  did  a  senator  who  was 
present,  but  the  dreamer  "  rushed  in  where  angels 
feared  to  tread."  You  will  hear  to-day  in  Oregon 
that  U'Ren  is  "the  smoothest  lobbyist"  in  the 
state,  and  he  is.  He  is  calm,  conciliating,  per- 
sistent; and  he  fits  his  argument  to  his  man. 
He  talked  politics  to  that  platform  committee; 
he  gave,  not  his  reasons  for  wanting  the  Australian 
ballot,  but  arguments  which  appealed  to  these 
party  politicians.  And  they  listened.  Then 
Bingham  appeared.  Unlike  U'Ren,  Bingham 
was  aggressive.  He  came  into  the  committee 
room  with  fire  in  his  eye,  bulldozing,  begging, 
reasoning,  and  threatening.  They  could  put  off 
U'Ren;  Bingham  hung  on  like  a  bulldog,  and  in 
the  end,  they  got  his  bill  endorsed  by  the  Repub- 
licans. Then  they  went  to  the  Democratic 
Convention  and  there  also  they  won.  And  the 
Legislature,  thus  pledged,  adopted  Bingham's 
Australian  ballot. 

Started  thus  first  in  the  public  service,  U'Ren 
had  still  to  make  his  living.  About  that  time 
he  fell  in  with  an  interesting  group  of  people, 
the  Luellings  of  Milwaukee  (Oregon),  orchardists 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     301 

and  nurserymen.  Seth  developed  the  well-known 
cherries,  "Bing''  and  the  "Black  Republican," 
which  latter  the  South  re-named  the  "Luelling." 
Seth  and  his  wife,  and  Alfred  Luelling,  were 
live-minded  people,  and  they  gathered  about 
them  other  active  brains.  They  thought,  and 
they  read;  they  had  lectures  and  they  recited 
from  the  English  poets.  Lacking  orthodox  teach- 
ers, they  guided  themselves  through  studies 
ranging  from  economics  to  spiritualism.  Una- 
fraid of  any  new  idea,  they  gave  a  welcome  and 
a  hearing  to  any  apostle  of  any  ism.  U'Ren 
was  well  received  among  them.  He  was  taken 
into  partnership  in  the  business.  When  that 
failed  in  the  panic  of  1893,  there  was  a  quarrel, 
and  bitter  feelings  which  endure  to  this  day, 
but  U'Ren  says  that  his  health,  his  heart,  and 
his  mind  all  were  better  for  this  life  among  these 
people. 

It  was  here  that  he  heard  first  of  the  referen- 
dum. They  were  all  members  of  the  Farmers' 
Alliance,  and  Alfred  Luelling  brought  to  a 
meeting  one  night  J.  W.  Sullivan's  book  on 
direct  legislation  in  Switzerland.  It  contained 
the  whole  set  of  tools  of  which,  hitherto,  U'Ren 
had  heard  of  but  one,  the  initiative.  This  would 
enable  the  people  to  make  laws;  the  referendum 
would   enable  them  to  stop  legislation  initiated 


302  UPBUILDERS 

by  their  legislators.  U'Ren  was  enthusiastic; 
the  whole  alliance  was.  With  these  tools,  the 
people  could  really  govern  themselves.  And 
that  is  what  these  people  wanted;  they  were 
Populists. 

We  of  the  East  despised  the  "Pops";  but 
their  movement  was  to  the  reform  movement 
of  to-day  what  the  "extreme''  Abolitionists  of 
New  England  were  to  the  great  movement  that 
produced  Lincoln  and  the  Republican  party. 
U'Ren  became  a  Populist.  But  that  party  was 
to  him  —  what  the  Republican  party  is  to  him 
now;  what  any  party  must  be  to  any  man  who  has 
in  mind  the  good,  not  of  an  organization,  but  of 
a  people — a  means  to  an  end,  an  instrument,  a 
political  tool.  The  "Pops"  were  sincere  people 
who  wanted  to  change  things  for  the  better. 
There  was  a  use  for  them,  and  U'Ren,  who  saw 
it,  joined  them  and  soon  was  secretary  of  the 
Populist  State  Committee. 

And  when,  as  secretary  of  the  Populists,  he 
had  worked  the  initiative  and  referendum  plank 
into  their  platform,  he  went  forth  as  secretary 
of  a  Direct  Legislation  League  to  the  conven- 
tions of  the  other  parties.  And  he  lobbied 
initiative  and  referendum  planks  into  the  plat- 
forms of  all  of  them,  excepting  only  the  Prohibi- 
tionists, who,  like  the  Socialists,  "won't  play" 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER      303 

with  anybody  else.  Having  the  parties  pledged, 
he  set  about  making  them  keep  their  promises. 
He  lighted  a  fire  behind  them. 

U'Ren  went  to  the  people.  They  were  ready 
for  him.  The  year  was  1893.  Discontent  was 
widespread.  Agitation  had  taken  the  form  of 
a  demand  that  the  Legislature  to  be  elected  in 
1894  should  call  a  constitutional  convention  to 
rectify  all  evils,  and  U'Ren  was  one  of  the  many 
workers  who  went  about  pledging  candidates. 
But  he  and  the  Luellings  concentrated  on  the 
**L  &  R.,"  as  they  called  the  initiative  and  referen- 
dum. As  secretary  of  the  Direct  Legislation 
League  he  got  up  a  folder  stating  simply  the  demo- 
cratic principle  underlying  the  initiative  and 
referendum  and  the  results  to  be  expected  from 
it.  Direct  legislation  was  an  acknowledgment  of 
the  right  of  the  people  to  govern  themselves  and 
a  device  to  enable  them  to  do  so.  The  "L  & 
R.'*  would  put  it  in  the  power  of  the  voters  to 
start  or  stop  any  legislation,  just  like  a  boss.  In 
other  words,  it  would  make  the  people  boss; 
the  legislators  would  have  to  represent  the  voters 
who  elected  them,  not  railroads  and  not  any  other 
"interest."  Nobody  could  object  (openly)  to 
this;  at  least,  nobody  would  out  there  in  that 
Western  state  where  the  failures  of  democracy 
were  ascribed,  not  as  in  the  East,  to  the  people, 


304  UPBUILDERS 

but  to  the  business  and  political  interests  that 
actually  are  to  blame. 

Everybody  worked.  The  women  sewed  the 
folders;  two-thirds  of  the  houses  in  Milwaukee 
were  thus  engaged  that  winter  (1893-94);  they 
prepared  50,000  folders  in  English  and  18,000 
in  German;  and  the  alliances  and  labour  unions 
saw  that  the  voters  got  and  read  them.  The 
effect  was  such  that  when  the  politicians  pleaded 
ignorance  of  the  initiative  and  referendum,  U'Ren 
could  answer:  "The  people  know  about  them." 
And  that  was  true.  After  the  election,  these  same 
workers,  men  and  women,  circulated  a  petition 
which,  with  14,000  signatures,  was  presented  to 
the  Legislature. 

Now,  that  is  as  far  as  a  reform  movement 
usually  goes.  U'Ren  went  further.  Knowing 
that  the  representatives  elected  by  the  people  are 
organized  in  the  Legislature  to  represent  some- 
body else,  U'Ren  went  to  Salem  as  a  lobbyist, 
a  lobbyist  for  the  people,  and  he  talked  to  every 
member  of  that  Legislature.  He  saw  the  chicanery, 
fraud,  and  the  politics  of  it  all,  but  he  wrung  from 
a  clear  majority  promises  to  keep  their  pledge. 

"And  we  lost,"  he  told  me  quietly.  "We 
lost  by  one  vote  in  the  House  and  in  the  Senate 
also  —  by  one  vote." 

"Fooled?"  I  asked. 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER      305 

"Fooled,"  said  U'Ren.  "It  was  done  in  the 
Senate  by  a  wink,  a  wink  from  Joe  Simon" 
(president  of  the  Senate  and  boss  of  Portland). 

"You  understood.     How  did  you  feel?*' 

"We  were  angry,"  U'Ren  answered.  "I  com- 
pletely lost  my  self-control  and  I  said  and  did 
things  that  were  wrong.  And  when  I  saw  my 
mistake,  I  remembered  what  my  father  used  to 
say  about  self-control,  and  I  tied  a  string  on  my 
finger  to  remind  me.  That  device  of  the  children 
worked  with  me.  I  think  I  never  afterward 
completely  lost  my  temper." 

The  act  which  U*Ren  calls  his  mistake  was  to 
go  out  from  that  Legislature  to  punish  the  mem- 
bers who  had  broken  their  pledges;  and  that  is 
what  I  can't  help  believing  must  be  done.  But 
U'Ren  is  one  of  those  very,  very  few  men  that 
believe,  after  these  2,000  years,  in  the  Christian 
spirit  as  a  practical  force. 

"Alfred  Luelling  first  questioned  the  wisdom," 
he  said,  "of  punishing  faithless  legislators.  We 
talked  it  over  and  I  thought  a  lot  about  it.  And 
I  decided  that  he  was  right.  After  that,  we  never 
again  punished  men.  Of  course,  we  voted 
against  a  delinquent,  if  the  parties  gave  us  a 
choice;  but  our  policy  was  to  publish,  not  a  man's 
delinquencies,  but  his  promises." 

Coming  from  a  practical  politician,  this  is  a 


3o6  UPBUILDERS 

most  important  tip  for  reformers.  And  U'Ren 
is  a  practical  politician.  He  learned  something 
from  that  Legislature.  Watching  it  as,  when  a 
boy,  he  watched  Denver  politics,  open-eyed,  he 
saw  what  he  saw,  and  his  mind,  never  taught 
to  blink  the  facts,  took  in  what  his  ears  and  eyes 
perceived.  When  he  came  home,  he  organized 
his  county,  and  he  organized  it  well.  The 
"dreamer"  became  the  boss  of  his  (Clackamas) 
county,  but  he  was  not  a  selfish  boss.  This 
was  his  chance  to  realize  his  young  dream  of 
Congress.  The  Populists  wanted  him  to  go,  but 
he  knew  now  what  Congress  was,  and  "What 
could  I  have  done  against  the  combine  that  ran 
it?"  he  asked.  "I  could  do  nothing  but  protest 
at  Washington,"  he  added.  "In  Oregon  I 
could  get  the  initiative  and  referendum  through." 
So  he  ran  for  the  assembly  and  was  elected. 
This  was  in  1896.  Bryan  was  running  for  Presi- 
dent, and  Oregon  was  a  Free  Silver  state.  Even 
Republicans  like  Senator  Mitchell  were  for 
silver;  they  were  called  "Silver  Republicans" 
just  as  in  the  East  we  had  "Gold  Democrats." 
The  Populists  elected  thirteen  assemblymen, 
the  Democrats  three,  the  Republicans  forty-four; 
in  the  senate  the  Populists  had  three  votes,  the 
Democrats  three,  the  Republicans  twenty-four. 
And   this  is  important  because   that   Legislature 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER      307 

never  was  organized;  it  was  the  famous  hold-up 
session,  a  scandal  yet  in  Oregon.  And  U'Ren 
was  one  of  the  managers  of  that  hold-up.  Oh, 
he  had  learned  a  lot  of  politics ! 

The  demand  for  a  constitutional  convention 
was  waning.  Leaders  like  U'Ren  realized  that 
a  convention  might  not  be  so  amenable  to  public 
opinion  as  the  Legislature,  so  he  was  for  the  initia- 
tive and  referendum  by  legislative  amendment. 
That  would  require  the  passage  of  the  resolution 
through  two  legislatures  in  succession  and  then  a 
vote  by  the  people.  This  way  looked  long,  but 
U'Ren,  as  a  boy,  had  proven  on  Johnnie  Badger 
that  he  was  built  to  fight  till  he  won.  And  he 
had  a  plan.  He  had  seen  in  the  last  session  how 
a  delegation  such  as  the  "Pops"  had  now  could 
be  used  to  play  politics  with,  and  U'Ren  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  play  politics  —  for  the  people. 
He  began  right  after  election. 

Oregon  at  the  time  was  in  that  primitive  stage 
of  corruption  where  personalities  still  played  a 
part  and  any  cash  briber  had  a  chance  for  high 
office.  The  .railroads  ruled,  but  the  dominant 
road,  the  Southern  Pacific,  was  a  foreign  corpora- 
tion. Its  bosses  might  have  gone  to  the  United 
States  Senate  from  Oregon  if  they  had  lived 
there,  but  they  were  elected  by  California,  so 
Oregon  was   open   to   its   own   rich    men.     And 


3o8  UPBUILDERS 

many  of  them  sought  the  "honour."  They 
paid  out  great  sums  trying  to  get  it.  The  poHti- 
cians  told  me  that  these  bankers,  editors  and 
business  men  were  '* played  for  suckers"  year 
after  year;  and  any  Oregonian  will  tell  you  with 
a  laugh  the  names  of  the  victims  of  this  long- 
drawn-out  comedy. 

U'Ren  understood  this.  In  1897  Senator 
Mitchel  was  to  be  reelected;  U'Ren  had  no 
doubt  of  that,  and  he  called  on  him  to  trade 
"Pop"  votes  for  his  help  on  the  initiative  and 
referendum.  Politician  as  he  was,  Mitchell 
talked  favourably  in  August,  not  at  all  in  Novem- 
ber, and  just  before  the  session,  "went  back  on" 
the  measure  entirely.     He  told  U'Ren  why. 

"I've  got  three  "Pop"  votes  that  nobody  can 
get  away,"  he  said. 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  U'Ren,  who  could 
hardly  believe  that  the  Populists,  so  new  and  so 
enthusiastic,  would  surrender  so  soon  to  "the 
conditions  that  make  men  bad." 

Mitchell  was  sure;  he  advised  U'Ren  not  to 
introduce  the  bill.  "My  people  won't  stand 
for  it,"  the  Senator  said. 

Mitchell  had  made  one  other  shift  of  position. 
A  Silver  Republican  all  through  the  Oregon 
campaign  (which  ended  in  the  June  election), 
he   came  out   after  it  for   McKinley   and   gold. 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     309 

Some  of  his  lieutenants  left  him,  among  them 
Jonathan  Bourne,  Jr.,  a  man  we  must  know. 
He  IS  now  a  United  States  Senator  from 
Oregon.  You  have  heard  of  black  sheep  ?  Well, 
Jonathan  Bourne  was  the  black  ram  of  a  rich 
old  New  England  family.  After  a  wild  time  at 
Harvard  University  and  a  wilder  time  "about 
town,"  he  went  West  and  had  the  wildest  time 
of  all.  I  think  U'Ren  will  not  charge  him  up 
to  conditions;  Fve  heard  him  say  that  Bourne 
was  improved  by  age.  Bourne  learned  his  game 
from  Mitchell,  who  learned  his  from  Quay  in 
Pennsylvania,  whence  Mitchell  came  (after  a 
change  of  name).  And  the  lesson  of  the  Quay 
school  of  politics  was  not  to  organize  like  Tam- 
many for  the  year  around,  but  to  "let  her  rip" 
till  just  before  a  campaign,  then  make  a  new 
"combine." 

When  Mitchell  made  his  gold  "combine," 
Bourne  made  his  new  silver  "combine"  and  — 
U'Ren  joined  Bourne.  Mitchell  didn't  have 
the  three  Pop  votes.  U'Ren  found  that  his  dele- 
gation was  solid,  and  ready  to  trade.  All  they 
wanted  was  (i)  the  initiative  and  referendum, 
(2)  a  good  registration  law  (Ed.  Bingham's), 
and  (3)  Pop  judges  and  clerks  of  elections. 
Bourne  wanted  to  be  Speaker.  He  was  willing 
to  swing  his  delegation  to  the  Pop  bills  in  return 


3IO  UPBUILDERS 

for  their  votes  for  his  speakership.  This  settled 
the  House;  they  looked  to  the  Senate.  The 
President,  Joe  Simon,  was  the  man  who  beat  the 
constitutional  convention  with  a  wink.  No 
matter.  U'Ren  wasn't  punishing  men.  He 
called  on  Simon.  He  knew  Simon  wanted  to  go 
to  the  United  States  Senate.  Simon  didn't  say 
so.  No.  Simon's  conversation  suggested  that 
President  Corbett  of  the  First  National  Bank 
would  make  a  good  Senator,  but  the  politicians 
understood  that  Corbett  was  "only  Simon's 
rich  sucker."  And  so  it  turned  out,  for  when, 
Igiter,  Simon  did  control  a  legislature  for  Corbett, 
Simon,  not  Corbett,  was  elected  to  the  United 
States  Senate.  But  U'Ren  wasn't  interested  in 
senatorships.  He  believed  that  Simon  would  go 
into  a  strong  combine  to  beat  Mitchell.  And  he 
was  right.  Since  the  terms  —  U'Ren's  "fool" 
legislation  and  Bourne's  speakership — were  satis- 
factory, Simon  delivered  the  Senate. 

Does  it  begin  to  appear  now  how  U'Ren  got 
his  good  laws  in  the  bad  state  of  Oregon  ?  Do 
you  begin  to  understand  why  it  was  that  "  leading 
citizens"  and  "corrupt  politicians,"  the  very  men 
who  are  against  reform  elsewhere,  "passed  all 
these  reform  measures  ascribed  to  U'Ren  V  Most 
of  these  men  didn't  know  what  they  were  doing, 
and  they  didn't  care.     They  wanted    something 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER      311 

for  themselves;  U'Ren  wanted  something  for  the 
people.  On  that  basis,  William  U'Ren  went 
into  every  political  deal  that  he  could  get  into. 

And  that  he  was  a  factor  to  be  reckoned  with, 
he  proved  right  away.  Quick,  quiet,  industrious, 
he  had  his  "combine''  organized  before  Mitchell 
woke  up.  The  Simon-Bourne-Pop  crowd  cap- 
tured the  temporary  organization  of  the  House. 
This  they  did  by  a  snap.  They  weren't  ready 
to  elect  a  United  States  Senator,  and  since  the 
election  must  be  held,  by  law,  on  the  second 
Tuesday  after  the  permanent  organization  was 
effected,  their  play  was  to  put  off  the  election  of 
a  Speaker.  U'Ren  himself  made  that  play. 
There  was  a  contest  over  one  seat  in  the  House. 
U'Ren  was  on  the  committee  and  he  controlled 
three  of  the  five  votes.  He  wouldn't  report. 
The  minority,  seeing  the  game,  rushed  back  and, 
reporting  a  row  in  the  committee,  caused  a  row 
in  the  House.  And  a  mad  scene  it  was.  The 
Mitchell  men  rose  in  a  rage  and,  all  on  their  feet, 
were  crying  "Fraud!"  and  demanding  "Action." 
When  U'Ren  arrived,  his  side,  uninformed  and 
without  a  leader,  was  in  a  state  of  confusion. 
They  greeted  him  with  a  cheer  and  he  took  the 
floor.  Quietly,  with  great  courtesy  and  unex- 
expected  ability,  he  met  the  attack.  Everybody 
else  was  excited.     U'Ren  alone  was  cool  and,  as 


312  UPBUILDERS 

man  after  man  arose  to  accuse  him,  he,  with  the 
papers  they  wanted  in  his  pocket,  answered  with 
reason  and  with  tact.  And  his  self-possession 
soon  possessed  the  House.  "It  is  wonderful!" 
a  woman  spectator  exclaimed.  "Whenever  that 
man  speaks,  you  can  feel  a  sense  of  quiet  settle 
upon  the  whole  House."  Little  known  in  the  state 
and  known  to  the  politicians  as  "the  dreamer," 
U'Ren's  debate  that  night  made  him  a  reputation. 
The  recollection  of  everybody  present  was  vivid 
ten  years  afterward,  when  I  inquired,  but  when 
I  mentioned  it  to  U'Ren,  he  smiled;  he  never 
fools  himself. 

"It  is  easy  to  make  a  reputation  as  a  parlia- 
mentarian," he  said,  "when  you  have  the  chairman 
on  your  side." 

He  won  out;  that  is  what  he  recalls.  He  beat 
permanent  organization  that  Monday  night,  and 
thus  put  off  the  senatorial  vote  for  two  weeks. 
And  then  followed,  not  two  weeks,  but  a  session, 
of  bribery,  drunkenness,  hate,  and  deadlock. 
Men  were  bought,  sold,  and  bought  back  again. 
Both  sides  used  money  fiercely;  and  since  there 
was  no  appropriation  bill,  the  members  got  from 
the  state  no  salary,  no  mileage,  nothing;  they 
had  to  have  money.  Well,  they  got  it.  Bourne 
set  up  a  private  house,  somewhat  like  the 
"House  of  Mirth"  at  Albany,  N.  Y.,  where  he 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER      313 

"kept"  men  on  his  side.  Mitchell  ran  the  price 
of  votes  up  to  thousands  of  dollars,  and  he  and 
his  lieutenant,  Charlie  Fulton  (later  a  United 
States  Senator  from  Oregon),  paid  out  the 
money  in  cash.     The  Pops  caught  them  at  it. 

Johnson  Smith,  assistant  warden  of  the  Peni- 
tentiary, then  a  Pop  assemblyman,  proposed  to 
go  to  Mitchell  and  take  some  of  his  money  for 
evidence. 

"Go  ahead,"  said  U'Ren.  "Well  vouch  for 
your  purpose  in  doing  it." 

So  Smith  got  from  Mitchell  and  Fulton  ;?  1,500 
as  for  himself,  and  ;?250  as  for  the  go-between. 
The  next  day,  when  the  Mitchell  men  were 
trying  to  gather  a  quorum,  Smith  stood  outside 
in  the  lobby.  Rushing  up  to  him,  Fulton 
ordered  him  to  his  seat.     Smith  laughed. 

"Why!  Aren't  you  going  in.?"  said  Fulton. 
And  when  Smith  said  he  wasn't,  Fulton  flew 
into  a  rage.  "Didn't  you  take  our  money  and 
promise  to  go  in  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Smith,  "I  took  your  money. 
You  were  so  damn  fresh  and  free  with  it,  I 
thought  I'd  take  a  piece.  But  it's  you  that's 
sold,  not  me." 

There  was  more  to  this  dialogue,  but  the  sequel 
will  interest  the  people  of  the  United  States  who 
want  to  know  about  their  United  States  Senators. 


314  UPBUILDERS 

Governor  (now  U.  S.  Senator)  Chamberlain  of 
Oregon  made  an  affidavit  for  Francis  J.  Heney 
to  send  to  President  Roosevelt,  deposing  and 
swearing  that  when  Smith  was  under  consid- 
eration for  appointment  to  the  penitentiary, 
Fulton  protested  on  the  ground,  not  that 
Smith  had  taken  Mitchell's  money,  but  that, 
having  taken  it,  he  had  not  stayed  bought! 
Charles  W.  Fulton  is  fundamentally  corrupt. 

"No,"  says  U'Ren.  "That  was  in  war  time, 
and  we  mustn't  judge  men  in  the  heat  of  battle 
by  the  standards  of  cold  blood."  But  U'Ren 
is  excusing  the  bribery  of  1897;  the  Senator's 
protest  to  Governor  Chamberlain  was  in  1903 
—  in  cold  blood.  But  never  mind  Fulton.  How 
about  U'Ren  ^  That  deadlock,  which  he  helped 
to  manage,  lasted  to  the  end.  Nothing  was  ac- 
complished; no  Senator  was  elected,  no  legisla- 
tion passed,  and  everybody  concerned  was  under 
suspicion.  U'Ren  himself  had  charges  to  answer. 
He  was  accused  of  taking  money  from  Bourne, 
and  calling  together  the  Pop  committee,  he 
admitted  that  he  had  borrowed  ^80.  He  had  to, 
he  pleaded.  He  had  opened  a  law  office  in 
Oregon  City,  but  a  "country  lawyer"  in  politics 
earns  very  little,  and  since  there  was  no  appro- 
priation bill,  he  got  no  pay  as  an  assemblyman. 
He  earned  none,  he  admitted,  and  he  abided  by 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     315 

that.  For  when  the  next  Legislature  voted  full 
salaries  and  mileage  to  its  predecessor,  U'Ren 
and  one  other  member,  George  Ogle,  sent  back 
their  warrants.  So  he  never  did  get  any  money 
for  that  time  and,  to  exist,  he  had  to  borrow 
from  Bourne.  But  the  $So  was  a  loan,  not  a 
bribe;  he  has  long  since  paid  it  back  and,  since 
he  suggested  the  whole  deal,  the  money  did  not 
affect  his  conduct.  His  committee  exonerated 
U'Ren,  but  the  transaction  hurt  him,  and  so  did 
some  letters  of  his  which,  published  later,  showed 
how  he  traded  with  the  powers  of  evil;  as  he  did 
—  and  as  he  went  on  doing  —  deliberately,  in 
cold  blood,  as  George  Ogle  knows. 

George  Ogle,  farmer  and  Populist,  is  notoriously 
honest.  He  was  U'Ren's  best  friend,  and  when 
in  the  fall  of  1898  Ogle's  mother  died,  he  asked 
U'Ren  to  deliver  the  funeral  address.  The  next 
day  Ogle  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  back  to 
town  with  U'Ren.  It  was  a  cold  ride  in  the  rain 
through  slush,  but  they  had  a  warm  talk,  those 
two.  U'Ren  had  run  for  the  Senate  that  summer 
against  George  C.  Brownell,  the  Senator  from 
Clackamas  who,  as  chairman  on  the  committee 
on  railroads,  had  represented  for  years  the  corrupt 
system  of  Oregon  in  the  Senate.  He  beat  U'Ren, 
who  turned  right  around  and  made  a  deal  with 
him.     U'Ren   promised    to   help    elect    Brownell 


3i6  UPBUILDERS 

to  any  office  he  might  choose  to  run  for  next  time, 
if  the  Senator  would  work  in  good  faith  for  the 
initiative  and  referendum.  Ogle  knew  this  be- 
cause he  was  one  of  the  "Pops"  U'Ren  had  asked 
to  join  in  his  bargain.  And  Ogle  had  been 
thinking  it  over  ever  since,  and  now,  out  there 
in  the  mud  and  sleet  of  that  country  road,  he 
asked  U'Ren  what  the  fight  was  to  cost  him, 
U'Ren. 

U'Ren  understood,  and  he  answered,  "I  am 
going  to  get  the  initiative  and  referendum  in 
Oregon,"  he  said,  "if  it  costs  me  my  soul.  Fll 
do  nothing  selfish,  dishonest,  or  dishonourable, 
but  ril  trade  oflF  parties,  offices,  bills  —  anything 
for  that." 

Ogle  objected.  "Good  things  are  not  worth 
that  price,"  he  said. 

They  were  both  thinking  of  Brownell,  of  course, 
and  U'Ren  said  he  had  to  deal  with  the  men  in 
office.  "We  can't  choose  our  human  instru- 
ments," he  argued,  "  and  we  can't  change  political 
methods  till  we  have  passed  some  legal  tools  to 
do  it  with."  And  he  recalled  a  story  Ogle  had 
told  him  once  of  a  cattleman  who  discharged  a 
cowboy  because  he  returned  from  a  search  for 
some  cattle  with  an  explanation  of  his  failure  to 
find  them.  "I  want  my  cattle,  not  your  excuses," 
the  cattleman  said,  and  "that,"  said  U'Ren,  "is 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     317 

what  the  people  say  to  us."  It  was  the  old  ques- 
tion whether  the  end  justifies  the  means. 

They  quarrelled  over  it,  those  two  good  friends. 
It  was  a  quiet  quarrel  and  it  is  being  made  up 
now,  but  they  parted  then  for  many  years.  Ogle 
returning  to  his  farm,  U'Ren  to  the  lobby  at 
Salem. 

And  U'Ren  used  the  lobbyist's  means  to  attain 
his  end.  He  and  Frank  Williams  watched  their 
"friends"  and  made  new  ones.  Brownell  was 
true;  also  he  was  clever.  He  didn't  pretend  to 
believe  in  the  "crank"  measure.  "I've  got 
to  vote  for  it,"  he  would  say  to  his  "practical" 
colleagues.  "My  district  is  chock-full  of  'Pops' 
and  I  have  to  placate  them.  And  what  does  the 
initiative  and  referendum  amount  to  anyway  ? 
It's  got  to  go  through  two  sessions.  Pass  it  now 
and  we  can  beat  it  next  time."  But  Brownell's 
best  service  was  in  trading.  Once,  for  example, 
Williams,  one  of  Lincoln's  old  secret-service 
men,  learned  that  two  Senators  were  quarrelling 
over  an  appropriation  for  a  normal  school. 
U'Ren  arranged  through  Brownell  to  get 
appropriations  for  both.  Two  normal  schools 
for  two  "I.  &  R."  votes!  And  it  was  either 
at  this  session  or  the  next  that  U'Ren  and  his 
friends  connived  at  what  he  calls  a  "vicious 
gerrymander." 


3i8  UPBUILDERS 

"We  helped  through  measures  we  didn't 
believe  in,"  U'Ren  says  in  his  plain  way,  "to  get 
help  for  our  measures  from  members  who  didn't 
believe  in  them.  That's  corruption,  yes;  that's 
a  kind  of  corruption,  but  our  measures  were  to 
make  corruption  impossible  in  the  end." 

The  "I.  &  R."  passed  in  1899,  44  to  8  in  the 
House,  22  to  6  in  the  Senate.  And  U'Ren  went 
on  working.  The  moment  the  session  closed, 
the  Direct  Legislation  League  (W.  S.  U'Ren, 
secretary)  set  about  making  it  impossible  for 
Brownell's  friends  to  "beat  it  next  time."  U'Ren 
instructed  the  voters.  The  propaganda  was 
systematic,  thorough,  complete,  and  the  politi- 
cians knew  it.  And  the  politicians  knew  now 
that  U'Ren's  word  was  good,  and  his  support 
worth  having.  So  in  1901,  when  the  measure 
came  up  for  second  passage,  U'Ren,  from  the 
lobby  and  after  more  dickering,  saw  it  go  through 
unanimously.  And  at  the  next  general  election 
(1902)  the  people  approved  it,  11  to  i. 

Thus  it  was,  then,  that  the  people  of  Oregon 
achieved  actual  sovereignty  over  their  corrupted 
state  —  by  the  methods  of  corruption.  What 
good  has  it  done  them  ?  They  have  the  power 
to  change  their  constitution  at  will;  to  make 
laws  and  to  veto  acts  of  their  Legislature,  but  laws 
and  machinery  are  of  no  use  to  a  people  unless 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     319 

there  are  leaders  to  apply  them.  The  referendum 
which  U'Ren  found  in  the  charter  of  San  Fran- 
cisco was  a  dead  letter;  Heney  didn't  even  know 
it  was  there.  And  Heney's  exposure  of  Oregon 
came  two  years  after  U'Ren  had  his  "I.  &  R." 
In  brief,  to  repeat  the  question  raised  at  the  be- 
ginning of  our  story,  Why  don't  the  people  of 
Oregon  use  their  power  to  change  the  system  ? 

The  answer  is,  as  before,  "W.  S.  U'Ren." 
He  knows  the  "I.  &  R."  is  nothing  but  a  tool; 
that  it  is  worth  while  only  as  it  can  be  used  to 
change  the  "conditions  that  make  men  do  bad 
things";  and  he  means  to  use  it.  Indeed,  he 
proposed,  when  he  got  it,  to  proceed  at  once  to 
economic  reforms.  But  wiser  heads  counselled 
that,  until  the  new  instrument  had  been  tempered 
by  custom,  it  would  be  better  to  use  the  "I.  & 
R."  only  to  get  other  new  tools.  So  the  Direct 
Legislation  League  gave  way  to  a  Direct  Primary 
League,  and  W.  S.  U'Ren,  secretary,  drew  a  bill 
for  the  people  to  initiate  that  should  enable  them 
to  make  their  own  nominations  for  office  and  thus 
knock  out  the  party  machines.  While  this  was 
doing,  a  railroad  planned  a  referendum  to  delay 
a  state  road  which  the  Chamber  of  Commerce 
wanted,  and  the  Chamber,  in  alarm,  threatened 
an  initiative  for  a  maximum  rate  bill.  That 
settled   the   railroad,   pleased   the   business   men 


320  UPBUILDERS 

and  showed  them  the  use  of  the  new  tool.  And 
when,  in  July,  1903,  a  circuit  court  declared  the 
"I.  &  R."  unconstitutional,  there  was  backing 
for  the  tool.  U'Ren  was  able  to  get  Senator 
Mitchell,  Brownell,  and  eight  other  political 
and  influential  corporation  attorneys  to  appear 
before  the  Supreme  Court,  to  defend  the  "I.  & 
R.,"  which  was  sweepingly  upheld. 

The  Direct  Primary  Bill  was  passed  by  the 
people  in  June,  1904,  56,000  to  16,000.  A  local 
option  liquor  bill  was  passed  by  initiative  at  the 
same  time,  and  in  November  several  counties 
and  many  precincts  went  "dry."  U'Ren  had 
nothing  to  do  with  this  last,  but  he  did  have 
very  much  to  do  with  another  important  enact- 
ment —  the  choice  of  United  States  Senators  by 
direct  vote  of  the  people. 

This  radical  reform  was  achieved  without 
secrecy,  but  yet  without  much  public  discussion. 
It  was  a  bomb  planted  deep  in  the  Direct  Primary 
Bill,  and  U'Ren  planted  it  —  with  the  help  of 
Mitchell,  Brownell,  Bourne  and  two  or  three 
editors  of  newspapers.  The  idea  occurred  to 
U'Ren  to  write  into  the  Primary  bill  a  clause: 
that  candidates  for  nomination  for  the  Legisla- 
ture "may^*  pledge  themselves  to  vote  for  or 
against  the  people's  choice  for  United  States 
Senators,  "regardless  of  personal  or  party  pref- 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     321 

erence."  Mitchell  helped  to  draw  the  clause,  now 
famous  as  Statement  No.  i,  which  legislators  might 
sign,  and  he  expected  to  be  and,  if  Heney  hadn't 
caught  him  grafting,  he  would  have  been  elected 
on  it  without  having  to  bribe  legislators.  U'Ren 
would  have  helped  him.  As  it  happened,  Mulkey 
(for  a  short  term  of  six  weeks)  and  Bourne  were 
the  first  Senators  elected  under  the  amazing  law 
which  hardly  anybody  but  U'Ren  realized  before- 
hand the  full  effect  of. 

That  Jonathan  Bourne,  Jr.,  should  have  been 
the  first  product  of  the  popular  election  of  Sena- 
tors has  been  used  to  disparage  this  whole  Oregon 
movement,  but  Bourne  had  backed  all  these 
reforms  with  work  and  money,  and  U'Ren  says 
he  is  sincerely  for  them.  But  U'Ren  tried  to 
get  another  man  to  run,  and  turned  to  Bourne 
only  when  he  was  convinced  that,  to  establish 
Statement  No.  i  as  a  custom  in  Oregon,  the  first 
candidate  must  be  a  man  rich  enough  to  fight 
fire  with  fire  if  the  legislators  should  be  bribed 
to  go  back  on  their  pledges.  So,  you  see,  U'Ren 
was  still  thinking  only  of  the  tool,  and  he  won 
again.  For  the  knowledge  of  Bourne's  resources 
and  character  (and,  also,  a  warning  from  the 
back  country  that  the  men  with  guns  would  come 
to  Salem  if  their  Legislature  broke  its  pledge) 
did  have  its  effect.     The  Legislature   confirmed 


322  UPBUILDERS 

Bourne  without  bribery  and  with  only  four  votes 
against  him. 

The  Direct  Primary  Law  settled,  a  People's 
Power  League  was  organized  (W.  S.  U'Ren, 
secretary)  to  use  the  people's  power,  but  U'Ren 
still  stuck  to  tool  making.  Other  reformers 
used  the  "L  &.  R."  for  particular  reforms.  The 
Anti-Saloon  League  passed  a  local  option  bill; 
the  State  Grange  enacted  two  franchise  tax  acts, 
which  the  Legislature  had  failed  on;  and  U'Ren's 
league  put  through  a  constitutional  amendment 
to  cut  out  the  state  printer's  graft.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  graft  bill  to  sell  the  state  a  toll  road, 
another  for  woman's  suffrage,  and  a  liquor 
dealers'  amendment  to  the  local  option  bill  were 
all  beaten  by  referendum.  But  U'Ren  and  the 
League  worked  hardest  for  and  passed,  by  initi- 
ative, bills  extending  the  "L  &  R."  to  cities 
and  towns,  and  giving  municipalities  complete 
home  rule  —  more  tools.  And  so  —  next  year, 
initiative  bills  were  passed  to  let  the  people 
discharge  any  public  officer  of  the  state  and  choose 
his  successor  by  a  special  election  (this  is  the 
famous  "recall");  a  corrupt  practice  act;  to 
make  the  people's  choice  of  United  States  Sena- 
tors mandatory;  and,  deepest  reaching  of  all,  pro- 
portional representation.  All  tools.  There  were 
referendum  petitions  out,  also;  two  against  ap- 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     323 

propriations,  one  to  make  passes  for  public  offi- 
cials compulsory,  another  to  beat  a  sheriflF's  graft. 
But  U'Ren  was  still  after  the  tools. 

But  will  this  tool-making  never  be  over  ? 
"Yes,"  said  U'Ren;  and  he  added  very  definitely, 
"Reform  begins  in  1910."  And  one  proposition 
in  the  list  for  1908  showed  what  we  may  expect. 
This  was  a  bill  "to  exempt  from  taxation  factory 
buildings  and  machinery;  homes  and  home  im- 
provements, but  not  the  lots  nor  the  farms." 
Quietly  worded  though  this  was,  the  reform  involved 
is  economic,  and  economic  reforms  are,  as  we 
have  seen,  what  U'Ren  is  after.  And  he  will  get 
them,  he  and  the  people  of  Oregon.  I  believe 
that  that  state  will  appear  before  long  as  the 
leader  of  reform  in  the  United  States,  and  if  it  is, 
W.  S.  U'Ren  will  rank  in  history  as  the  greatest 
lawgiver  of  his  day  and  country. 

But  what  about  the  man  ?  What  about  re- 
forms got  as  he  has  got  his  ?  It  must  be  remem- 
bered, before  passing  judgment,  that  Oregon 
was  in  that  stage  of  corruption  where  the  methods 
were  loose,  crude  and  spontaneous.  Perhaps 
the  condition  I  mean  can  best  be  brought  home 
by  citing  an  agreement  written  by  Harvey  W. 
Scott,  the  really  great  editor  of  that  really  great 
newspaper,  the  Oregonian  (and  of  its  afternoon 
edition,  the  Telegram),  one  night  in  1903.     There 


324  UPBUILDERS 

was  a  contest  on  for  United  States  Senator. 
Scott  had  hopes.  Bourne  had  had  them,  but  he 
had  nothing  left  but  a  small  minority  of  legisla- 
tors. These  he  owned,  however;  they  had  cost 
him  ;?25,ooo.  Scott  wanted  Bourne's  legislators, 
so  on  the  last  night  of  the  session  he  wrote  the 
agreement  printed  below,  and  Wm.  M.  Ladd, 
the  leading  banker  of  Portland,  wired  it  (hence 
the  verbal  errors)  to  Salem.     Here  it  is: 

"In  case  I  receive  Jonathan  Bourne,  Jr.'s, 
support  for  United  States  Senator  at  the  joint 
session  of  the  Legislature  to-night,  I  hereby  agree 
to  use  the  full  power  of  the  Morning  Oregonian 
and  the  Evening  Telegram  to  defeat  John  H. 
Mitchell  at  the  next  senatorial  election,  and  elect 
Jonathan  Bourne,  Jr.,  in  his  place. 

"  I  further  agree  that  if  I  receive  the  support 
of  Jonathan  Bourne,  Jr.,  for  United  States  Senate 
in  the  joint  session  of  the  Legislature  to-night, 
that  if  elected  I  will  turn  all  the  Federal  patronage 
over  to  Jonathan  Bourne,  Jr. 

"  I  hereby  further  agree  in  lieu  [view]  of  receiv- 
ing the  support  of  Jonathan  Bourne  to-night  at 
the  joint  session  of  the  Legislature,  that  whether 
elected  or  not,  I  will  pay  to  Jonathan  Bourne 
fo5,ooo  in  United  States  gold  coin." 

Scott  didn't  get  his  senatorship;  Brownell 
threw  it  to  Fulton,  but  that  is  neither  here  nor 


W.  S.  U'REN,  THE  LAWGIVER     325 

there.  Other  contracts  Hke  this  are  in  the 
the  safe-deposit  vaults  of  Portland,  and  they 
illustrate  the  state  of  corruption  W.  S.  U'Ren 
worked  his  reforms  through.  And  all  U'Ren 
did  was  to  trade,  dicker,  and  connive.  I've  told 
the  worst  of  it — yes,  practically  all  of  it;  and  it 
may  not  be  considered  as  very  bad;  certainly  it 
never  was  selfish;  but  it  was  corruption.  So  I  ask : 
"Isn't  U'Ren  only  our  damned  rascal?" 
I  put  the  question  to  U'Ren  himself  one  day. 
I  was  at  his  home,  a  small  cottage  on  a  point 
of  land  that  looks  up  the  Willamettte  River  to  the 
famous  Falls.  One  afternoon,  when  the  country 
lawyer  was  telling  me  his  story,  the  "wrong  as 
well  as  the  right  of  it,"  and  we  were  in  the  midst 
of  one  of  his  deals,  his  wife  looked  into  the  parlour 
and  asked  him  if  he  wouldn't  get  her  some  wood. 
He  rose  and  we  went  out  to  the  wood-shed;  and, 
as  he  chopped,  I  said: 

"How  well  off,  are  you,  U'Ren?" 
He  rested  his  axe  to  answer:  "I  think,"  he  said, 
"that  I  am  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Oregon." 
"How  is  that?     Have  you  made  money?" 
"My  earnings   average   about  ^1,800   a  year. 
But    that    isn't    what    I    mean.     I    haven't    any 
money,  but  I  haven't  any  wants  either,  not  for 
myself." 

"What  about  your  conscience?"  I  persisted. 


326  UPBUILDERS 

"What  have  those  compromises  with  corruption 
cost  you  ?" 

"Nothing/*  he  said.  "I  never  have  done  a 
dishonest  or  a  dishonourable  thing.'* 

"No,  but  you  have  made  bargains  with  the 
devil  to  get  him  to  pass  your  laws.  You  remem- 
ber Moses  ?  He  also  broke  the  covenants  of  the 
Lord,  and  you  know  what  happened  to  him. 
He  was  taken  up  where  he  could  see  the  Land  of 
Promise,  but  he  wasn't  allowed  to  go  over  into  it. 
Why  won't  it  be  so  with  you  ?  You  may  have 
saved  the  people  of  Oregon,  but  haven't  you  lost 
your  own  soul  ?     Won't  you  go  to  hell  ?" 

He  was  looking  down  while  I  spoke,  and  he 
didn't  see  that  I  was  speaking  half  in  fun.  Evi- 
dently he  considered  the  prospect  seriously,  for 
after  a  moment,  he  looked  up  steadily  at  me, 
and  in  even  tones  answered  out  of  his  delibera- 
tion . 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  would  go  to  hell  for  the 
I  people  of  Oregon!" 


THE  END 


INDEX 


Adams,  Frank,  193,  199,  208, 
20^,    228,    236. 

Administration,  Mayor 
Pagan's  first,  24. 

Alliance,  the  Farmers',  301. 

Amendment,  Rush,  to  Denver 
State  Constitution,  234. 

American,     Sugar     Refining 
Company,    249. 
the  real,  issue:  represen- 
tative government,  30. 
Smelting  Company,  197. 

Anti-saloon  League,  the,  322. 

Attorney-general      McCarter, 
22,    23,    24. 

Australian,  ballot  law  adopted 

in   Oregon,   300. 

Ballot  League,  299. 

Bacon,  Edgar  B.,  17,  23. 
Baird,  David,  Repub.  boss  of 

Camden,    80. 
Baker,  the,  case,  219. 
"Battle-Axe  Gang"  of  Globe- 

ville,     218. 
Bingham,    E.    W.,   "a    law- 
maker,"  298. 
his  Australian  ballot  law 
adopted,  300. 
Bishop,   Frank,    president   of 
County  Board  of  Den- 
ver, 229. 
Bosses,    ward,    7. 
big,   II,   12. 
little,  II,  12. 
Republican,    19,    35. 


Bosses — Continued 

Democratic,    19,    35. 
political,  not  really  bosses, 

67. 
real,    arc    business   men, 
67. 
Bourn,  W.  B.,  261. 
Bourne,     Jonathan,    jr.,    his 
silver  "combine,"  309, 
sets  up  a  private  house, 

312. 
should    have    been    first 
product      of     popular 
election     of    Senators, 

mentioned  in  Scott's  writ- 
ten agreement,  324. 

Brownell,  George  C,  315,  320. 

Browning,  J.  A.,  a  teacher  who 
teaches,  48. 

Calhoun,   Patrick,   247,   265, 

269. 
plans  for  overhead  trolley, 

266. 
offers     R.     Spreckels     a 

bribe,  267. 
proposed    to    smash    the 

unions,   283. 
Carey,  Robert,   17,  23. 
Carson,  Eli,  another  case  of 

"making   good,"    141. 
Cassatt,  A.  J.,  76. 
Caucus,  the,  54. 
Chamberlain,    Governor,    of 

Oregon,  314. 


327 


328 


UPBUILDERS 


Cheesman,  Walter,  Pres.  of 
Denver  Water  Co., 
240,    241. 

Children,  Society  for  Preven- 
tion of  Cruelty  to,  157. 

Colby,  Charles  L.,  builder  of 
Wis.  Central  Railroad, 

47- 
Colby,  Everett,  Repub.  Assem- 
blyman from  Essex  Co., 

32. 

elected    Senator,    32. 

born,   1874,  47. 

prepared  for  Brown,  48. 

graduated,  48. 

makes  tour  around  the 
world,  48. 

studies  law,  48. 

becomes  a  Wall  Street 
broker,  49. 

appointed  chairman  of 
executive  committee  of 
Repub.  organiz.,  51. 

offered    Senatorship,    52. 

nominated  and  elected,  52. 

introduces  Dickinson's 
bills  in  the  House,  53. 

made  floor  leader  of 
Rep.  majority,  57. 

presents  limited  fran- 
chise  bill,   77. 

Orange  issue:  limited 
franchise,  84. 

the    "Love    Feast,"    89. 

elected  Senator,  89. 
Colorado     Fuel     and     Iron 

Company,  203,  233. 
"Combine,"  the,  9. 
Company,  Fidelity  Trust,  21, 
69. 

United  Gas  Improve- 
ment,  21. 

conference  of,  held  at 
Sherry's,  22. 


Company — Continued 

United  States  Steel,  56. 
Colorado  Fuel  and  Iron, 

203,  233. 
American  Sugar  Refining, 

249. 
Independent     Gas     and 

Electric,    257. 
San  Francisco  Gas,  250, 

2.57- 
United     Railways,     247, 

264. 
Corporation,   Public   Service, 

21,  22,  31,  32,  33,  69, 

78,  80. 
Corporations,  the,  11,  18,  35, 

58,   9I-. 

dodge  their  share  of  taxes, 
18. 

Jersey,    81. 

corrupt,  of  Colorado,  197. 
Correction,  the  game  of,  as 
instituted  by  Judge 
Lindsey,  128,  182. 
Corruption,  what  the  political 
and  financial,  of  the 
U.  S.  is  built  up  on,  8. 

political,  in  Jersey  City,  1 1 . 

political,  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, 247. 
Cotton  mill,  set  up  in  Color- 
ado, violates^child-labor 
law,  203. 
Court,  Juvenile,  of  Denver, 
95,  97,  100,  loi,  131, 
205. 

founded  on  principle  of 
love,  113. 

merely   supplementary, 

131- 

Judge  Lindsey's,  of  Pro- 
bation, 128,  132. 

Supreme,  of  Colorado, 
226,  243. 


INDEX 


329 


Crime,  j  u  v  e  n  i  le,  on  the 
increase  in  U.  S.,  no. 

causes  of,  150,  156,  192. 

the  jails,  schools  of,  109. 
Criminal  manufacturers,  183. 
Criminals,  born,  188. 

bred,  188. 

Davis,  "Bob,"  the  Democratic 

boss,  7,  11,36,45. 
Democratic,  County  of  Hud- 
son, 10. 
machine,  34. 
boss,  19,  35. 
Denver,  County  Court  of,  94, 
228,    229,    230. 
typical     American      city 

government,     193. 
winerooms    in,     saloons, 

193-. 

Juvenile  Court  of,  see 
Court. 

County  Board  of,  227-236. 

school  teachers  of,  131. 

fight  against  the  jail  in, 
208. 

County      Commissioners 
of,  228  —  236. 
Dickinson,  Col.  Sam,  Repub- 
lican boss,  II,  18,  21, 
22,  23,  34,  45,  52. 

appointed  Secretary  of 
State  by  Gov.  Murphy, 
12. 

calls  on  Mayor  Fagan,  13. 

appointments    recom- 
mended to  Mayor  by, 
16. 
Direct  Primary  Bill,  passed, 

320. 
*' Ditching,"  134. 
Dryden,    John    F.,    sent    to 
United   States   Senate. 
22. 


Dryden — Continued 

gives  a  yachting  party,  22. 
the  man  back  of  McCar- 
ter,  67. 
Duffield,  Edward,  the  House 
leader,  75. 

Evans,  William  T.,  the  Den- 
ver boss,  237,  239. 

Fagan,  Mark,  birth,  3. 
schooling,  4. 
learned  the  trade  of 

frame-gilder,  5. 
undertaker,  5. 
started  in  politics,  8. 
elected  ward  leader,  8. 
nominated  Mayor,  11. 
elected  Mayor,  12. 
dreams  of  making  Jersey 

City  "a  pleasant  place 

to  live  in,"  15. 
policy  to   equalize  taxa- 
tion, 18. 
raises   rates   on   the   tax 

dodgers,  19. 
learns  that  trolley  is  king 

of  his  state,  24. 
first    administration,    24. 
re-nominated  and  elected, 

26. 
famous    letter    to    Gov. 

Murphy,  28. 
how  and  why,  will  make 

J.   C.   "pretty,"  46. 
raised    present   issues   of 

N.  J.  politics,  59. 
issue:  equal  taxation,  84. 
Farmers'  Alliance,  the,  301. 
Fidelity  Trust  Company,  21, 

69. 
Folk,  36,  86,  90,  149,  151. 
Franchise,  tax  fight,  31. 
in  Jersey  City,  31. 


330 


UPBUILDERS 


Franchise — Continued 

"grabs,"  31. 

perpetual,   33. 

limited,   33. 
Fry,   Edward,    17. 
Fulton,  Charles  W.,  313. 

fundamentally      corrupt, 

314. 

Garvin,  ex-Governor,  of 

Rhode    Island,    286. 
George,  Henry,  16,  297,  298. 
Golden,  Industrial  School  at, 
107,    108. 
what,  is  for,  117,  137. 
trusting  young  criminals 
to  go  alone  to,  165. 
Graft,  9,  20,  46. 

county,  in  Denver,  227. 
in  San  Francisco,  259. 
Grafters,  the,  22,  36. 

Republican  business,  69. 
of  Denver  convicted,  233. 

Hale,  R.  B.,  269. 
Harrington,   Cass,   229. 
Heimel,  Jack,  a  boy  burglar, 
174. 
"Tatters,"    174. 
Heney,   Francis   J.,  86,  273, 
275,280,282,284,314. 
his  exposure  of  Oregon, 

319- 
Higgins,  Frank   J.,   17. 
Holland,  Arthur,  President  of 

United  Railways,  268. 
Hughes,  Charles  J.,  233. 

"I.  and  R.",  the,  303. 

passed  in  1899,  318. 

nothing  but  a  tool,  319. 

declared  unconstitutional, 

1903;     defended     by 

U'Ren  and  others,  320. 


"I.  ^ndl^:*— Continued 

used    for    particular 

reforms,  322. 
Independent  Gas  and  Electric 

Company,  257. 
Industrial  School  at  Golden, 

107,108,117,137,165. 
Initiative,  the,  298. 

U'Ren,  father  of,  285. 

Jennings,  Rufus  B.,  269. 
Jersey  City,  3,  6, 13,  21, 23,  24, 
25,  26,  31,  ^^,  36. 
corporation     offices    and 

properties  in,  11. 
"nothing  but  a  railroad 

terminal,"    15. 
corrupt,   neglected, 

robbed,  15. 
Fagan's  hopes  for,  15. 
trolley  lines,   19. 
Fagan's  "group  plan"  of 
government  in,   84. 
Johnson,  Tom,  36. 
Jury-fixing  a   common   prac- 
tice,   225. 
Juvenile  crime,  see  Crime. 
Juvenile  Improvement 
Society,  240. 

Kelsey,   Frederick  W.,  70. 
Kids  Citizens*  League,  124. 

"Labour"  government  in  San 
Francisco,  262,  266. 
comes  into  complete  con- 
trol,   1905,    267. 

Ladd,  William  M.,  the  lead- 
ing banker  of  Portland, 
Oreg.,  324. 

La  Follette,  36,  86,  90,  91, 
149,    151. 

Law,  the  School,  of  1899, 
107. 


INDEX 


331 


League,  Kids  Citizens*,   124. 
for  Honest  Elections,  235. 
Australian  Ballot,  299. 
Direct  Legislation,  302- 

Direct  Primary,  319. 

People's  Power,  322. 

Anti-saloon,  322. 
Lentz,  Carl,  Repub.  boss  of 
Essex  County,  50,  66. 

Mayor,    78. 
Life,  Prudential,  21,  69,  74 
Lindsey,  Ben  B.,  95,  99,  112 

ii5»    130- 
the  **  method  s  '*  of,  98, 147 
founds  his  "kids*  court,* 

108. 
visits  the  City  Jail,  109 
visits    the    County    Jail 

109. 
his     "Problem     of     the 

Children,'*     100,    no, 

III. 
opposition    to,    149. 
elected  County  Judge  of 

Denver,  151. 
up    against    the  System, 

151- 
methods    are    applied 

Christianity,   151. 
"  1  e  n  i  e  n  c  y,'*  so-called, 

practice  of  privacy,  154. 

consideration  for  both 
parents  and  children, 
160. 

his  Juvenile  Association 
for  Protection  and 
Betterment  of  Chil- 
dren, 191. 

his  bills  in  the  interests  of 
children,    216. 

his  "fight  against  the 
jail,"     208. 


Lindsey — Continued 

attacks  "jury-fixing,** 

225. 
the  author  of  the  present 

election    laws    of    his 

state,  226. 
his   exposure  of  the 

County  Commissioners, 

227. 
investigates  and  exposes 

graft  in  Denver,  227- 

234- 
"The     first     citizen     of 

Colorado,**   235. 
re-elected  County   Judge 

on  his  own  terms,    by 

unanimous  vote  of  the 

people,  238. 
Lindsley,  Harry  A.,  95,  108, 

232. 
Luelling,  Alfred,  301,  305. 
Luellings,  the,  of  Milwaukee, 

300. 

Mack,    Teddy,    a    fourteen- 
y  e  a  r-old  "criminal,** 

185. 
Mahoney,   Boss  Thomas   J., 

223. 
"Major,**  the  case  of,  119. 
Martin,  Lee,  a  boy  burglar, 
174,  186. 
"The  Eel,**  174. 
Martin,  William  P.,  69,  89. 
McCarter,  Tom,  the  Attorney- 
general,  22,  23,  24. 
President  of  P.  S.  C,  22, 

67,    69,    81. 
Robert,  made  Attorney- 
general,  22. 
Uzel,    74,    81. 
Messenger  service,  a  degrad- 
ing influence  for  boys, 
207. 


332 


UPBUILDERS 


**  Mickey,"  the  story  of,  210. 

Mitchel,    Senator,    308,    320, 
321. 
his  gold  **  combine,'*  309. 

MofFatt,  David  H.,  leading 
banker  and  financier 
of  Colorado,   240. 

Morgan,    Randall,    23. 

Morris,  the  celebrated  injunc- 
tion case  of,  144. 

Murphy,  Governor,  12,  27, 
31,   58. 

"New  Idea,"  the,  84,  87. 
Newark,    the    metropolis    of 
N.  J.,  69. 
Greater,  plan  to  create  a, 
70. 

Ogle,    George,    farmer    and 

Populist,  315-317- 
Oregon,    fundamental     legis- 
lation of,  285, 

corruption  of,  285. 

a  state  of  graft,  285. 

W.  S.  U'Ren,  the  law- 
giver of,   285. 

railroads  ruled  in,  307. 

the  famous  hold-up  ses- 
sion in,  307. 

how  the  people  of, 
achieved  actual  sover- 
eignty over  their  cor- 
rupted state,  318. 

Palmer,  Judge  Peter  L.,  194. 

his  injunction,  194. 
Patterson,  United    States 

Senator,    231. 
Phelan,  James  D.,  269. 
Populists,  the,  302,  308. 
**  Problem  of  the    children," 

not  a  separate  problem, 

224. 


Quay  school  of  politics,  the, 
309- 

Railroad,    Pennsylvania,    21, 
62,  78,  80. 
property  taxed  separately 

in  New  Jersey,  25. 
taxation,  a  great  question 

in  N.  J.,  26. 
rates,   45. 
Railroads,  26,  31,  59. 
Record,  George  L.,  16,  17,  18, 
20,  22,  23,  32,  55,  59, 
82,    84. 
Referendum,   the,   298. 
U'Ren,  father  of,  285. 
Where  U'Ren  first  heard 
of,  301. 
River-Front  gang,  the, 1 74, 1 8 1 . 
Rockefeller,   Percy,  57. 
Rogers,  Merrick  A.,  294. 
Rosenbaum,  Johnny,  the  case 
of,  139. 

San  Francisco,  political  bad- 
ness of,  247. 
United  Railways  of,  247, 

264. 
Gas   Company   of,    250, 

257,  258,  260. 
Gas  War  in,  256. 
Earthquake  in,  272. 

Scott,  Harvey  W.,  editor  of 
the  Orggoniaity  323. 

Session,  famous  hold-up,  307. 

Sewell,   General,   11. 

Simon,  Joe,  310. 

Smith,  George  Allan,  233. 

Smith,  George  T.,  12. 

Smith,  James,  jr.,  Democratic 
business  boss,  69. 

Smith,  Johnson,  assistant 
warden  of  the  Peniten- 
tiary, 313. 


INDEX 


ZZ3 


"Snitching,"  134. 

Speer,     Robert,     Mayor     of 

Denver,   239,   242. 
Spreckels,     the,     family,     an 

institution  in  Cal.,  248. 
Clans,  248,  249,  250,  251, 

a,  monopoly,  248. 
Spreckels,    Rudolph,    a    self- 
made  millionaire,  244. 

the  political  ideal  of  the 
business  world,  246. 

opposed  by  business  men, 
246. 

a  business  reformer, 
248. 

president  of  First  Nation- 
al Bank,  252. 

goes     to     Philadelphia 

with  his  brother,  252. 

carries  through   a   coup, 

254. 
elected    to    Board    of 
Directors  of  Gas  Co.  by 
stockholders,  258. 
determines  uf)on  political 

reform,  264. 
the  type  of  **big"  busi- 
ness  man    for  Mayor, 
279. 
has    mental    as    well    as 
moral  integrity,  282. 
Statement  No.   i,  321. 
Steel's,  U.  S.,  "20  per  cent. 

consent"  bill,   57. 
Stetson,  Francis  Lynde,  57. 
Stokes,   Edward    C,   31,   55. 
nominated    Governor   of 
N.  J.,  65. 
System,  the,  50,  53,  55,  58,  66, 
151,222,225,226,234, 
240,   241. 
Republican^  the  organ  of, 
m  Denver,  240. 


Teller,  United  States  Senator, 

231. 
Thieman,  Paul,  tells  the  story 

of    the    Kids*    Judge, 

1  nomas,  Governor,  223. 

United    Gas  Improvement 

Company,  21. 

Conference  of,  22. 
United    Railways    Company 

247,    264. 
United  States  Steel  Company, 

56. 
*  20   per   cent,   consent" 

bill,  56,  57- 
popular  choice  for,  Sen- 
ators,  84. 
U*ren,  W.   S.,  the    lawgiver 

of  Oregon,  285. 
Father  of  the   Initiative 

and     Referendum     in 

Oreg.,    285. 
giver  of  laws  to  Dakota, 

285. 
born,  Jan,  loth,  1859,287. 
family,  287. 
a    blacksmith    by    trade, 

287. 
his  first  fight,  291. 
studied   law   in   Denver, 

.^94- 

aids  in  colonizing  voters, 
presidential  campaign 
of   1880,    295. 

admitted  to  the  bar,  296. 

reads  *' Progress  and 
Poverty,"  297. 

how,  became  lawgiver 
"of  Oregon,"  298. 

has  always  been  secre- 
tary, 299. 

"smoothest  lobbyist"  in 
Oregon,    300. 


334 


UPBUILDERS 


U'ren — Co  ntinu  ed 

becomes  a  Populist,  302. 

secretary  of  Pop.  State 
Committee,  302. 

Secretary  of  Direct  Legis- 
lation League,  302. 

a  practical  politician,  306. 

becomes  boss  of  Clacka- 
mas County,  306. 

runs  for  Assembly,  and  is 
elected,   1896,  306. 

how,  got  his  good  laws 
in  the  bad  state  of 
Oreg.,  310. 

runs  for  Senate  and  is 
beaten,  315. 

defends  the  "L  and  R.,'* 
320. 


U'ren — Continued 

helps     effect     enactment 

concerning    U.   S. 

Senators,     known     as 

Statement  No.  i.,  320, 

321. 
secretary  of  People's 

Power  League,  322. 
after   economic   reforms, 

323- 

Wanser,     General,     13,     20, 
calls.on  Mayor  Fagan,  19. 
Williams,    Frank,   317. 
Wilson,  Charles  F.,  200. 

Young,    E.    F.    C,    11,    19, 
21. 


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